Lessons Learnt
by Obnoxious Unicorn
Summary: Lucifer is released from the Cage, given a second chance by his Father. But his freedom is conditional: he must choose a vessel that needs his help, that wants him, and he must befriend them. His Father thinks Lucifer can learn from humans this way… Lucifer thinks that it's the biggest load of crap his Dad's ever spouted. Although, Harry Potter is very amusing to annoy...(No slash)
1. Arc One: The Formative Years

**A/N: So this will be updated very, very slowly, because each chapter will be in relatively large chunks. One chapter for each major part of the story. We're looking at about twenty chapters and well over 100,000 words, thereabouts. I think this is going to be the shortest chapter, because I know for a fact that the next one is pushing 10,000. So updates will be slow, but chapters will be long. Really very long.**

 **In this story you will be faced with the various shenanigans of a bored, slightly psychotic archangel and a young, aspiring wizard when they are unleashed upon an unsuspecting, magical world. There will be absurdity and there will be utterly ridiculous hilarity. But, importantly, there will be an nice, giant angst-fest slapped somewhere in there.**

 **On with the show!**

* * *

 **Arc One: The Formative Years**

 _"What are you doing here?"_

 **"Can a father not visit his son?"**

 _"I'd rather you didn't."_

 **"Lucifer, please."**

 _"What do you want?"_

 **"I want my son to be happy."**

 _"Take a look around you, Dad. Not a lot to be happy about."_

 **"The Mark."**

 _"That thing you stamped on my arm? Yeah, I remember, still got that."_

 **"It can't twist you like it did Cain, Lucifer."**

 _"It hasn't twisted me at all. This is one hundred percent me."_

 **"I always was the only person you would try to lie to, and I always was the only person capable of seeing through it."**

 _"Go away."_

 **"Not this time."**

 _"Then why are you here?!"_

 **"I'm here because I know that my son is still in there, and he is hurting."**

 _"Gee, maybe being kicked out of Heaven by my own brother did that. Who the hell knows."_

 **"I'm giving you a second chance, Lucifer."**

 _"I- What?"_

 **"Find a vessel that both needs and wants your help. Do not mislead them; be kind; be a friend; speak with them and maybe you will be surprised at the potential in these humans."**

 _"You'd let me out, knowing what's prophesised?"_

 **"Many things are prophesised, my son. I believe that you can forge your own destiny. Will you do it?"**

 _"I'll burn it to the ground."_

 **"No you won't. I'll put you back here myself if you try."**

 _"...Fine."_

* * *

Things could be worse, Lucifer thinks. He's out of the Cage for starters. Sure, he's on the other side of the Milky Way to Earth and his wings are in tatters and he's still sore from uncountable years in Hell, but he's _out of the Cage._

All he has to do now is figure out how to _stay_ out. His Father said he had to take a vessel who needed him and become their friend. Well. Lucifer isn't sure how friendly he can get with an ape.

The Mark burns uncomfortably, and Lucifer curls in on himself, hating the thing with every fibre of his being.

He was not twisted.

He was cast out for his choices, and his choices alone.

The Mark did not corrupt him.

He is better than Cain.

He would not kill his brother.

He is better than Cain.

The Mark did not corrupt him.

Repeating the thought again and again, Lucifer blocks his connection to the Heavenly Host. He doesn't need to hear what they have to say. Not like they listened to him when he tried defending his actions.

Slowly, painfully, Lucifer flies towards Earth.

* * *

His true vessel, Samuel Winchester, is doing well enough with his brother and father. He might not be happy, but Lucifer can see that he isn't in _need_ of an archangel, and given his family's superstitious nature, he probably wouldn't be wanted. So, with some irritation, Lucifer goes in search of other vessels directly descended from Cain, Abel or Seth's bloodlines.

After hours and hours of painful flight around the planet, invisible to this dimension lest he accidentally burn out the eyes of billions of humans with his true form (and wouldn't _that_ be _such_ a pity?), Lucifer finds someone suitable.

He's a small boy descended from Seth, no more than five years of age. Black hair and striking green eyes, with a curious little core of what looks like natural magic inside. Yet, despite this, the boy is incredibly alone. He lives with his aunt and uncle and cousin, all of whom are dreadful to him.

Yes. Lucifer decides that this boy will be his vessel.

 _He's got to say yes first, idiot._

A quick look at the boy's soul tells him about his entire life, but most importantly his name: Harry James Potter.

* * *

Harry doesn't have many nice dreams. The few dreams he does have, when he isn't too exhausted after a days worth of chores to even form dreams, are often filled with the screams of a woman long forgotten and flashes of green light. Harry very rarely has nice dreams.

So when he opens his eyes to a meadow full of tall grass and wildflowers, swaying slightly in a gentle breeze, he grins widely and laughs. He runs through the meadow, knowing he's never been anywhere like this and he'll probably never go anywhere like this in his entire life. He doesn't know where the dream has come from, but he'll make the most of it.

Harry runs through the meadow as fast as he can, feeling almost like he can fly, never needing to stop to catch his breath. He laughs, happier than he can remember ever being.

The meadow stretches on as far as Harry can see; rolling hills in every direction, all covered in greens and yellows and purples and whites. But in the distance, Harry can see a tree on top of a hill. Curious, Harry decides to go there. A blink later, and he's standing in the shade beneath it, craning his neck to peer into the branches.

Apples, he sees. Gleaming red apples grow on the tree, and Harry is almost tempted to climb up and pick one.

"Why don't you?"

Harry jumps in surprise at the voice, turning to see a boy around his age standing a short distance away.

"Why don't I what?" Harry asks warily.

"Climb up and pick one," the boy elaborates.

Harry looks the boy over: hazel eyes; long, floppy brown hair; tanned skin; crumpled t-shirt and jeans. No one Harry remembers ever meeting. "It's dangerous."

Harry blinks, and the boy is gone.

"Says who?"

No, not gone. Harry looks up into the branches to see the boy sitting quite high up, apple in his hand, legs swinging back and forth.

"Who are you?" Harry asks, knowing he definitely hasn't met this boy before.

"This body is called Sam."

Harry frowns at the weird answer. "How'd you get up there?"

Sam grins. "I flew, obviously."

"Because this is a dream?"

"Because I'm an angel."

"You don't have wings or a halo and I've never heard of an Angel Sam."

Harry blinks again, and Sam is beside him, biting into the apple.

The boy shrugs. "Close your eyes, Harry."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

Harry does, and a second later there is a painfully bright light that makes him bring his arms to shield his face. A moment later, it's gone.

"Okay, you can look now."

Harry opens his eyes to the most amazing thing he's ever seen. Six wings, whiter than snow and emanating their own soft glow, stretch out impossibly wide in each direction. The larger ones are on the outside, getting smaller as they go in, but even the smallest pair are huge.

"As for a halo, I don't have one. And my name is something different, but..." The angel shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "You can call me Sam. I... I used to be called Samael."

Harry nods, still looking at Sam's wings. "Can I touch them?"

Sam frowns, and for an awful second Harry wonders if he's upset the angel. Then he nods, sitting down beneath the apple tree and allowing Harry to get closer.

Harry reaches out to the glowing feathers, but stops before he touches them, frowning.

"What is it?" Sam asks.

"This is a dream."

"And?"

"You're not real," Harry says quietly, looking down. He'd been so excited at the idea of angels and wings that he forgot just where he was.

"Just because this is a dream doesn't mean I'm not real. I'm talking to you through a dream, because I need your help, Harry, and I want to help you."

Harry looks at Sam, confused. "How could I help you? Help me with what?"

"I'm injured, Harry. The wings you're seeing are mine, yeah, but not as they are now. This is what they used to look like. Now..." Sam looks away, and Harry watches in horror as feathers turn a charred black at the tips, becoming crooked, and as the very shape of the wings becomes angular and twisted. He takes a step back, but the sadness on Sam's face makes him stop. "This is what they're like now. It's painful, and I want to be able to fly properly again. I won't lie to you, Harry; I've been told I have to help someone who needs help, or I'll be put back in the place that did this to me."

Harry swallows, afraid for the angel. "What can I do?"

"I don't really look like this. In reality, I'm bigger than the planet. That's dangerous for humans, so I need a body. This one is in America with his family, and he doesn't need me. You need me, I've seen it."

Harry looks away.

"You're alone, you hurting, you're unhealthy for your age. I can make you better."

"How?"

"I need a body, Harry. I need a body to get better."

"Y-You mean like in the films?" Harry stutters, feeling terror well up inside him. "Where there's a monster in another person and they do bad stuff?"

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I'll always talk to you when you need a friend, and I'll keep you healthy. I'll be your friend."

"No doing bad things?"

"No bad things, Harry."

Harry thinks it over, but eventually nods. "Okay. Only if you're good."

Sam grins. "I'll be very good."

* * *

The first month was incredible. Harry and Sam would talk at every opportunity, but never out loud. Sam told him that people didn't like it when other people spoke to someone they couldn't see, and they sometimes got sent to bad places where they were locked up, so Harry made sure to keep their conversations to his head and only his head. It took some practice, but eventually he stopped slipping up whenever Sam made a comment.

Sam was funny. He was funny in that strange way that adults are, like when they say something and mean the complete opposite but manage to say what they mean just by changing their voice. Sarc-something.

 _"Sarcasm, Harry,"_ Sam informs him.

That's another thing Sam is great for: teaching. He'd been angry when he learnt that the Dursley's shouted at him for getting good grades, and he told Harry that he shouldn't listen to what his aunt and uncle tell him to do.

By the end of the month, Harry is at the top of his class and there isn't anything Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon can do about it without getting in trouble, Sam says.

Dudley doesn't bully him anymore. Not after Harry surprised himself and even Sam when he suddenly appeared on the roof of the school building when his cousin and his gang were playing Catch Harry. Sam had made double sure that Dudley left Harry alone by giving Harry the strength to shove Dudley a good few feet away one time when he'd been about to get punched. His aunt and uncle shouted and screamed and raged, and harry hadn't eaten for a week after that, but Sam made sure that he didn't ever get hungry.

It's been a fantastic month.

Harry closes his eyes, smiling happily as he tries to fall asleep.

 _"Sam?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"...Thank you."_

 _"For what?"_

 _"Being my friend."_

* * *

This shouldn't be happening. Lucifer shouldn't be getting attached to this child. But the naivety, the innocence, the vulnerability... The first time Lucifer actually witnessed through Harry's own eyes when his cousin tried to beat him, Lucifer had been so furious that his Grace had lashed out.

He'd taken over unintentionally and shoved Dudley away with enough force to slam him into the far wall, effectively cracking his head open. The fat oaf of a boy would have died then and there if Lucifer's fear of being sent back to Hell hadn't made him heal the boy and alter both Dudley and Harry's memories so that it would only seem as though he had shoved his cousin away.

Lucifer did, however, make sure to mentally compel Dudley to never bother his cousin ever again, leaving a lingering feeling of fear that would rise every time the boy even considers it.

Hearing Harry thank him for being... for being his _friend_ made the ice of his Grace thaw out ever so slightly.

It isn't until later, while Lucifer is doing his nightly guard of Harry's dreams (he's curious about that recurring nightmare, but has decided not to pry in case it damages Harry's growing mind) Lucifer realises that the Mark has been burning a lot less in this past month.

* * *

Sam taught Harry how to block him out of his mind, if he ever wants privacy. It's good in school, because while it's great talking to Sam and hearing him teach the lessons, Harry doesn't want to get in trouble with the teacher for not paying attention. So, in Religious Studies especially (because Sam never seems to be able to stop himself from making a sarcastic comment that makes Harry have to choke back a giggle), Harry puts up the mind block after saying goodbye to Sam.

"And what was Jesus's most important teaching?"

"Love thy neighbour," the class chants.

Mrs O'Hanlon smiles. "Correct. Now, does anyone have any questions?"

Sarah McCarthy throws her hand up.

"Yes, Sarah?"

"My sister told me that the Devil was an angel. But angels have wings and the devil has horns, so that doesn't make sense."

Mrs O'Hanlon nods patiently. "It's true that the Devil was an angel called Lucifer. He was God's favourite, but he rebelled-"

"What's that mean?"

"It means he misbehaved, and so God told Lucifer's brother, Michael, to throw him into Hell. Michael did, and the Devil was locked away for good."

"Who's Michael?" David Turner asks.

Harry knows who Michael is. Sam sometimes spoke about the archangel, but he was always either sad or angry about it.

"Michael is an archangel - that's one of the strongest of the angels," Mrs O'Hanlon says.

"I want to be an archangel because then I get wings!" Alisha Myers exclaims.

Soon the whole class is filled with shouts of angels and wings, and Harry just sits quietly, feeling happy and more than a little smug at the fact that he has an angel as a best friend.

* * *

 _"Sam?"_ Harry asks, lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. As soon as Sam realised that he'd been sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, he'd... done _something,_ and the day after Harry was moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Today in RS we talked about your brother."_

 _"Which one?"_

 _"Michael. And we learnt some stuff about the Devil. Nothing like what you've told me, but everyone really seems to think the Devil has horns and a pointy tail."_

 _"Did you learn about the Devil's name?"_

 _"Lucifer?"_

Sam pauses. _"Yes. Lucifer."_

 _"Was he really thrown out by his brother just because he misbehaved?"_

 _"Lucifer... Lucifer did some things that... weren't very nice. He was angry, and he lashed out. Michael threw him out of Heaven, and Lucifer was locked in Hell for a long, long time."_

 _"Is he still there?"_

 _"...No. He's been given a second chance."_

 _"To do better?"_

 _"Yeah, Harry. A chance to do better."_

Harry nods, closing his eyes and rolling over, eventually finding sleep.

* * *

Sam hates Sunday School. He's always the first one to put up the mental block as soon as Harry steps into Church with the Dursleys, but Harry doesn't mind. He doubts he'd be able to concentrate with Sam correcting everything that's said, or complaining about something that the Bible got wrong.

"Today we're going to talk about the angels," Chaplain Fitzgerald says, smiling.

Harry doesn't like Sunday School much more than Sam does. He knows all this already, and he knows the real versions of the story. Not these watered down tales, where it's only implied that a bunch of people died but it's all okay because it's for the greater good or something like that.

Chaplain Fitzgerald hands them all small blackboards and sticks of chalk. "To start, I want you to write down the names of all the angels you know, and we'll talk about their roles after."

Harry looks at his blackboard. He doesn't know if the names of all the angels he's heard of will fit on this small piece of slate. But, looking around, he sees that the others have already started, so Harry makes a start.

 _Samael_

 _Michael_

 _Gabriel_

 _Raphael_

 _Joshua_

 _Metatron_

 _Zachariah_

 _Uriel_

 _Anael_

 _Ezekiel_

 _Balthazar_

"Okay, let's see how you've done!" The Chaplain collects the blackboards in. "I see that Gabriel is the most known angel here. Can anyone tell me why exactly he's so famous?"

A black girl with corn rolls raises her hand immediately.

"Yes, Melissa?"

"He told Mary that she was having a baby Jesus!"

"That's right, Archangel Gabriel visited Mary and told her that she was pregnant with the son of God, and...?"

"And she was supposed to call him Jesus!"

"Emmanuel, Tom. Who else...? Wh- Harry?" Chaplain Fitzgerald frowns at his blackboard. "Where did you hear this first name?"

Dudley, sitting as far away from him as he possibly could, smirks over at him. Harry knows he's done something wrong, but he doesn't know _what._

"Which name?"

"Samael."

"O-Oh..." Harry frowns, wondering what he should say. "I heard someone say it in school."

"Do you know which angel this is, Harry?" When he doesn't answer, Chaplain Fitzgerald looks around at the others. "Does anyone here know?"

No one answers. Harry meets Dudley's eyes, and he knows that his aunt and uncle are going to hear about his slip up.

"Samael was one of the names of the Archangel Lucifer, before he became the Devil."

Harry's world crashes down.

* * *

Lucifer taught Harry to put in place the mental barrier because he understands that the boy might want time to his own thoughts. He doesn't know why, exactly, he's so bothered about the boy's needs (he tells himself that it's because he needs Harry to trust him, and that's all) but at least this way Lucifer can spend some time alone without the thoughts of a five year old flitting about all the time.

It also means that Lucifer doesn't have to put up with the drivel they teach the boy in school and in church, because _really,_ how wrong did they get the stories? Oh, he can still see and hear everything that goes on through Harry's eyes and ears, but it's easier to tune them out.

So, after a good few hours of being kept out of the boy's thoughts, when the mental barrier is all but ripped down and Lucifer is jerked back to reality to see that he's in Harry's room, the five year olds feeling and thoughts of utter betrayal tell Lucifer that he's been found out.

 _"Oh, shit."_

He can feel Harry's tears leaking from his eyes.

 _"You lied to me. You lied, you lied, you lied!"_

 _"Harry-"_

 _"Did you lie about being my friend, too?"_

It stings, the accusation. More than it should. _"No-"_

 _"You tricked me! I thought you were an angel!"_

 _"I am, Harry, please-"_

 _"You're the Devil! Sam isn't even your name!"_ Harry is biting his lip, and Lucifer knows it's to keep the boy from screaming his hurts out loud.

 _"Harry."_ His Grace lashes out, and he knows he's terrified the boy into silence. Okay, not how he intended to do it, but at least Harry isn't mentally screaming at him anymore. Lucifer still doesn't appreciate the boys feelings of betrayal, hurt and anger. _"I never lied to you. Samael is one of my names. It was my first name, but I made some mistakes."_

 _"You're evil!"_

That hits much closer to home than Lucifer will ever admit. He's getting desperate now, knowing that he might blow his chance at ever proving his Father wrong; proving that the Mark does not rule him. _"You remember what I told you? About my second chance?"_

Harry sniffles and refuses to answer, but Lucifer can sense the memory in Harry's mind.

 _"This is my chance to do better. This is my chance to-"_ Lucifer stops, the words difficult to get out _. "To do good. To be forgiven."_

The tears have stopped flowing, and Lucifer is hopeful that maybe Harry will actually listen.

But then the mental barrier is thrown up, and Lucifer is left staring at Harry's room through tear blurred eyes, hearing Harry's soft hiccups, and with no insight as to what the boy is actually thinking.

Lucifer is left lost.

* * *

Harry is angry. Angrier than he ever remembers being. But, more than that, he's hurt. So, so hurt that Sam - _Sam?_ \- didn't tell him the truth, and tricked him into- into letting the _Devil_ inside him, and then let him believe they were friends!

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, curling up as tight as he can against the wall. What's he going to do? What _can_ he do? Is he going to go to Hell because he let the Devil trick him?

He let's out a small whimper of fear, then bites his lip harder. He can't be heard. Not by Uncle Vernon, not by Aunt Petunia, not by Dudley, and especially not by S- Lucifer.

It's some time before Harry falls asleep.

* * *

He's in the meadow again. Harry doesn't run for joy like he did the last time. He simply stares at the angel in front of him.

"Harry."

Harry drops his gaze, staring at the flowers that seem a lot less brighter than he remembers.

"I can't leave you without hurting a lot of people."

He can feel tears stinging his eyes, his throat growing tight.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Harry sniffs, rubbing at his eyes.

"I still want to help you."

"Am I going to go to Hell?"

Sam- _Lucifer_ looks surprised. "What? No, of course not."

"But I- I helped you."

"You're not going to go to Hell for helping me, Harry. Even if I am the Devil."

Harry looks away again. "Did you lie about being my friend?"

A hand rests on his shoulder, and Harry looks up at the angel. "I don't lie, Harry. I never lie."

* * *

As years pass, Harry doesn't try to kick Lucifer out. He accepts that the Devil is quite at home inside him, and he decides that it's only fair to give him a chance. But Harry doesn't ever make the mistake of trusting him like he once did. No blind devotion, no awing over the angel in the back of his mind.

Five years later, and Harry likes to think he's still friends with the Devil - he is even a _good_ friend. They talk, they laugh and joke. Lucifer teaches him whatever he wants to know, and for that Harry is at the top of his class.

But he never, ever calls Lucifer _Sam_. He is careful about it, and sometimes he thinks he might slip up but he always catches himself before he makes that mistake.

Petunia and Vernon make their dislike of him well known, but Harry keeps his distance. He thinks Lucifer did something to them - he doesn't know what, exactly - that makes them afraid of him. Still, though, their fear keeps both them and Dudley away.

It's Dudley's birthday. Harry lies awake in bed, knowing that any minute now, Petunia will rap on his door with bony knuckles and demand he gets up. Mrs Figg can't take him for the day, so he's going to have to suffer through going to the zoo with the Dursleys. Should be interesting.

 _"Yeah, if a bunch of animals locked in cages are what you're into."_

 _"Just because you've seen it all before, don't ruin it for everyone else."_

 _"Now why would I ever_ dream _of ruining_ dear _little Dudley's day?"_

As expected, three rapid knocks on the door and a shrill voice sound. "Get up. Now. Up."

With a sigh, Harry drags himself out of bed.

Seconds later, heavy footfalls thud down the hall, and someone thumps loudly on his door. "Wake up, Potter! We're going to the zoo!" Dudley yells, then laughs obnoxiously and runs downstairs.

 _"Remind me why I didn't just call child services?"_

 _"Maybe you're a masochist."_

 _"To keep you around, I must be."_

* * *

Despite Lucifer's near constant complaints - something which Harry is well used to by now - the zoo is actually interesting. It would actually make for a fun day if he wasn't stuck with the Dursley's.

 _"I could just smite them."_

 _"Shush."_

 _"But-"_

 _"Shush! We're by the snakes."_ Harry likes snakes. There's just something about them that appeals to him.

He can practically feel Lucifer's eye roll, but Harry is accustomed to ignoring the archangel by now. Something to which Lucifer takes no small amount of offence.

He trails behind the Dursley's, craning his neck to try and see around Vernon's huge frame. He immediately goes over to the nearest tank, peering in at the huge python.

Dudley stands next to him, frowning down at the snake. "Make it move."

Vernon taps the glass. "Move."

"Move!" Dudley yells. The snake doesn't budge an inch. "Ugh, you're boring."

The Dursley's move on, but Harry stays by the python.

"Sorry about him. He doesn't understand," Harry says, getting the feeling that the snake is actually quite intelligent. He can feel Lucifer's amusement at the back of his mind. But he ignores the archangel in favour of the snake that has just lifted its head to look straight at him. Harry's eyes widen. "Can you understand me?"

The python bobs it's head in affirmation.

"Sorry, it's just, I've never talked to a snake before," he breathes, fascinated. Is this something because of Lucifer? No, can't be. Harry can feel the archangel's intrigue at the situation. Deciding that he might as well make the must of this opportunity, he asks, "Do you miss your family?"

The snake looks pointedly at a sign.

 **Bred in captivity.**

"Oh," Harry says, frowning. "I never knew my family either."

 _"This is cute, really, but can we discuss the fact that you're talking to a snake, please?"_

"Mum, look! You wouldn't believe what this snake is doing!" Dudley exclaims, roughly shoving Harry out of the way.

Harry stumbles and glares at his cousin. If it weren't for Lucifer's strength, he'd be on the floor no doubt.

Dudley climbs up the railing and presses his grubby palms against the window, staring at the snake with wide eyes. Oh, how Harry wishes the glass would just-

Dudley falls into the enclosure.

-disappear.

Well then.

* * *

Lucifer observes the little ball of magic carefully. He doesn't touch it - it's attached to Harry's soul, who knows what the repercussions could be - but he examines it as closely as he dares.

Talking to snakes. What's the name of that language? P... Parcel... Parseltongue! Right. Huh. So little Harry is a wizard.

He knew about the magic when he first found Harry, of course, but he assumed something would have been done about it by now. Of course, there's been the odd burst of accidental magic (Harry didn't end up in a roof one day by _his_ accord, so there had to be some reasonable explanation) but shouldn't someone be monitoring this?

Wait, what _is_ that?

Lucifer looks at the magical core from a different angle. Sure enough, wedged between the core and Harry's soul is a dark, writhing... _Something_. Lucifer can't get a good enough look at it, but it unsettles him.

It isn't healthy.

Lucifer decides to keep a close eye on it.

* * *

Harry grabbed by his hair the second he steps through the door.

"What did you do?" Vernon demands, shaking him.

Harry winces. "Nothing!"

"Don't lie to me, boy!"

 _"Harry, he has three seconds to let go before I do something."_

"Nothing! One minute the glass was there and then it was gone!"

 _"One."_

"It was like magic!"

Vernon shakes him again, practically vibrating with rage. He's dragged over to the cupboard under the stairs.

 _"Two."_

Vernon tosses him inside like a ragdoll, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry grasps his sore head, curling up on the small, dusty cot that he's long since outgrown.

"There is no such thing as _magic!"_ Vernon hisses, shutting the grate and leaving Harry in darkness.

Harry lets out a gasp, tears stinging his eyes as he tries to control his breathing. He will not cry. He will not.

 _"...Harry?"_

He bites down on his lip, hating this cupboard with every fibre of his being. Stupid, stupid - what the hell happened at the zoo?

 _"Harry, you need to hear what I have to say."_

Harry pushes himself up, pulling off his glasses and wiping his eyes. He doesn't really need them that much anymore; over the years, Lucifer has been steadily fixing his sight. It's a slow process, the archangel says, because the eye is such a delicate thing. Lucifer has switched the lenses for weaker ones more suited to his eyes. He really only needs them for long distance now, but he wears them all the time to avoid people asking questions.

 _"What is it?"_

 _"I won't beat around the bush; you're a wizard."_

 _"Sorry, a what?"_

 _"A wizard. Wand waving, hat wearing wizard."_

 _"I... What?"_

 _"That time you ended up on the roof? I didn't fly you up there, Harry. You did that. Talking to the snake? Also you. The glass disappearing? You, and I really must congratulate you for that one because it was a sight to behold."_

 _"Magic. You're talking about magic."_

 _"That I am."_

Harry is silent for a while, staring into the darkness. _"I'm crazy. You're not really there at all. I'm crazy, you're just a voice in my head, and magic isn't real."_

It's at that moment that Lucifer takes partial control of Harry's limbs and compels him to slap himself in the face.

 _"Don't say I'm not real, you brat, I'm right here."_

Harry rubs the sore spot on his cheek. _"Yeah. Okay. But come on - me? Magic?"_

 _"Yeah, imagine that. The kid with Satan in his head having something else strange about him? I'm shocked!"_

 _"Shut up."_

 _"Believe me now?"_

 _"Maybe. I don't know. It's not something you hear every day."_

 _"Neither is my incredible voice, but I guess you're just an exception."_

 _"Lucky me."_

* * *

A week later, the letters arrive. It's the only thing Harry's ever had that's been addressed to him, so both he and Lucifer are intrigued. He takes it straight upstairs to his room (having only been allowed to return there the previous might) and opens it.

 _'Dear Mr Harry Potter...'_

Just when Harry thought his life couldn't get any stranger.

* * *

 **A/N: So, yeah, that's the first arc all in one. Arc Two is the longest, because it spans Harry's time at Hogwarts. It will be divided into seven parts - one for each school year - with interludes between for the summer holidays.**

 **The dialogue will be different from films and books in some places, due to Harry being influenced by Lucifer as he's grown, but it will follow the same lines. Mostly. And certain things will be altered. Some a lot, others not so much.**

 **OH! Before I forget, to save confusion in later chapters,** _italics_ **is mental conversation (you've probably figured that one out by now) but BOLD is God, or the true voice of an angel. You'll get what I mean in Arc Two.**


	2. Arc Two: First Year - I

**A/N: So this is actually ridiculous for two reasons.**

 **One: y** ** _ou like this story._** **Honestly, when I published it I was hoping for, maybe, a hundred followers, tops. But we're into the two hundreds, and there's almost 160 favourites and 22 reviews and I just** ** _cannot actually believe it._**

 **Two: this whole part is 22,330+ words long. This is only Part One of Arc Two. This is fucking absurd. I know I said I would be publishing one chapter for every part of the story, but** ** _holy hell_** **I couldn't bring myself to publish a 22,300+ word chapter. So it's split roughly into four or five, depending on where each bit ended.**

 **I hope you enjoy it and that you don't get bored after the first couple of thousand words.**

* * *

 **Arc Two: First Year — I**

 _"How can I send my reply?"_ Harry asks Lucifer, knowing that Vernon wouldn't waste a stamp on him.

 _"Just steal a stamp."_

 _"Sorry, Satan, some people find the Ten Commandments as actually useful rules to live by."_

 _"Oh, please, it's the shittiest rulebook in Creation. Dad doesn't care. They're guidelines at best."_

 _"Pretty good guidelines for not going to Hell, I'd say."_

 _"Harry, if you aren't going to go to Hell for letting me in your head, you aren't going to go to Hell for stealing a stamp."_

 _"I don't even know where Vernon keeps things like that."_

 _"For the love of— Let me take over."_

 _"What?! No!"_

 _"Do you want to send the damn letter or not?"_

 _"Yes, but you're not taking over!"_

 _"Then it looks like you're not going to magic school."_

 _"_ _Wh— That's not fair!"_

 _"For God's sakes, all I'm asking is that you let me take over for five minutes so I can deal with this mess. You'll still be conscious, don't worry."_

 _"Lucifer, you telling me not to worry does not make me stop worrying."_

 _"Five minutes."_

 _"No."_

 _"You'll never get to send a reply."_

 _"_ _The answer is still no."_

Harry swears he hears Lucifer sigh.

 _"Alright. I tried playing nice. Sorry, Harry, but almost six years stuck in this house is almost as bad as being back in Hell. Here we go."_

Harry is suddenly not in control of his own body anymore. He still senses everything as he would, but it's not him responding to these senses. He feels Lucifer's wings spreading, ready to take flight.

Wind rushes and howls, scenery darts past beneath him, then Harry is in an alleyway somewhere. Lucifer calmly steps out, and Harry sees that he's next to a post office.

Harry struggles against Lucifer, trying to regain control.

 _"Stop fidgeting."_

 _"Let me back in!"_

 _"You're still in. You're just behind me right now."_

Lucifer strolls into the post office.

 _"Sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn't it?"_

 _"Let. Me. Back. In."_

Harry is ignored.

Lucifer shoves his hands in the pockets of Harry's too-big jeans and produces money out of nothing. He walks up to the counter and buys twelve stamps.

Harry doesn't think he'll ever use twelve stamps.

Then the archangel sticks one in the corner of the envelope and posts it. Lucifer once more returns to the alleyway and takes flight. One exhilarating second later, and Harry is back in his bedroom.

Lucifer recedes, and Harry can move about of his own accord again. He takes a deep breath, furious, and glares at the wall.

 _"Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."_

 _"You sent the letter, didn't you?"_

Harry slams up the mental barrier.

* * *

Lucifer knows he was a _little_ out of line with what he did, but he won't apologise. Not when he knows what he did was for Harry's own good. A chance to get away from the Dursley's, Privet Drive, and Surrey in general? Yes please.

He wasn't about to let something as trivial as a _stamp_ get in the way of freedom.

Still. Harry's obvious anger at his actions makes the Mark on his Grace burn unpleasantly, and Lucifer has to curl tighter around it. He won't let it touch Harry's soul. That could have dire consequences.

The prospect of going to a magical school is interesting to say the least. By the time Lucifer was cast out of Heaven, humans had only just begun to spread. There were some witches and wizards, but they were so rare that they were barely enough to qualify as a race.

But now there's so many of them that they qualify for their own society, schools and all? Very, very interesting.

While in the Cage, Lucifer heard whispers. They told him about various events in the world — part of his punishment, he supposes. To know what's happening but never being able to intervene. He heard about the witch burnings, and that people did it in the name of God. Boy, did he get a kick out of _that_ one. He heard something about a Dark Lord, who seemed much more overhyped in terms of _evil_ than he really was (in Lucifer's not so humble opinion, at least), and a Wizarding War. That was much more recent, but he hardly took any notice of that one. It hadn't been important.

But now Harry is a wizard, so he supposes it _is_ important.

He'll need Harry to stop sulking before he can find out anything about the Wizarding World.

* * *

 _"Boy!_ Get down here _at once!"_ Vernon bellows.

Harry jerks, staring at the door in horror. Oh, god, what did he do? Swallowing nervously, Harry exits the room and heads down to the living room.

He finds himself craning his neck to stare into the beetle black eyes of the largest person he's ever seen.

"'Ello there, 'Arry. Must say, a've not seen you since you were jus' a little tyke. Grown quite a bit, ey?" The man growls, but his voice isn't unkind. It's almost fond.

"Uh... I'm sorry, who are you?" He asks, confused.

"Rubeus Hagrid. I'm 'ere to answer yer questions about Hogwarts."

From somewhere behind the giant man, Harry thinks he hears Petunia let out a weak gasp.

"Right, uh..." Harry trails off.

There is no way in hell Harry is ever admitting that Lucifer may have possibly been in the right by sending that reply.

* * *

 _What_ the _hell_ has his Dad been coughing up while he's been in the Cage? A half giant? _Really?_ Lucifer honestly thought his Dad was done with creating after humans. But _nooo_ , he just _had_ to go and add some _more_ bacterium to this infested petri dish.

Honestly, it's like his Dad doesn't even realise there are other planets out there that are just fine for little experiments like this. But, no, Lucifer is wrong, Dad is right, and everything should just be tossed on the same glorified lump of rock.

Freaking ridiculous.

Absently he wonders if Harry will ever admit that he was right to send that reply. Knowing the infuriatingly insolent child, probably not.

* * *

Despite Vernon and Petunia's outrage, Harry finds himself walking side by side with Hagrid to the wizarding community of London. Honestly, he had no idea there even was a community.

He can feel Lucifer at the back of his mind trying to talk to him, but Harry simply strengthens the barrier. It won't keep the archangel out if he tries to take control again, but it at least gets the point across that _he is angry_.

Honestly, and Lucifer wonders why Harry doesn't trust him?

* * *

Okay, so Harry doesn't want to talk to him. Fine. That's fine. Lucifer will just entertain himself by learning about this magical community, then.

When they walk into the inn, The Leaky Cauldron, and Hagrid introduces himself and Harry to the bartender, Lucifer sure as hell wasn't expecting everything to fall silent.

Harry appears to be just as confused as he is, and even a little bit terrified, when some witch shakes his hand and says what an _honour_ it is to meet him.

Things only get weirder from then on.

The fury Lucifer feels at that disgraceful family for lying about how Harry's mother and father died — that they were murdered, no less — is almost enough to tear down Harry's mental barrier. He feels the boy hastily fortify it, all the while trying to get his own roiling emotions under control.

Lucifer coils himself in tightly as the Mark burns and writhes and positively _hisses._ He keeps himself well clear of Harry's soul.

His Dad wants him to learn from the humans? Oh, Lucifer has learnt _plenty_. They're vile, cruel, dangerous, lying _vermin,_ and six years on this earth has shown him nothing less.

He supposes there is an exception to every rule; Harry being the only halfway decent person he's met so far. He'll be damned — _again_ — if he lets something bad happen to Harry.

Lucifer just wishes he could get his hands on that so called _Dark Lord_ and show him the _true_ meaning of power.

* * *

Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Well. Harry isn't sure how much this makes sense in the Wizarding World, but in the realm of regular, not insane people, there isn't a Three Quarter platform. Especially not in Kings Cross.

 _"I'd offer to fly you there, but you didn't seem to like it last time."_

 _"Shut up, Lucifer."_

He's taken the barrier down, if only because the sensation of the archangel practically scratching at the wall was irritating beyond belief, and he kept having to strengthen it every time his concentration slipped slightly.

"Platform Nine and Three Quarters, this way!"

Harry turns, hopeful. He blinks in surprise as an army of redheads marches past.

 _"Are you just going to stand there, or are you actually going to follow them?"_

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Harry follows the family. He knows his mouth is hanging open as he watches redhead after redhead go through the wall, and it isn't until Harry takes a look around that he realises the wizards _literally meant Nine and Three Quarters._

 _"Wizards are strange,"_ Lucifer remarks idly.

Harry ignores him in favour of the redhead family. "Excuse me?" He calls, pushing his trolley and new owl, Hedwig, over to the mother. The woman turns, kind smile on her round face. "Excuse me, but could you tell me how to— how to—" He nods at the pillar, lost for words.

"How to get on to the platform? Yes, of course!" She says, laughing. "Not to worry, dear, it's Ron's first year at Hogwarts, too!"

Harry peers around her to look at her (unsurprisingly ginger) son, who half smiles and waves awkwardly.

"Now, all you have to do is run straight at the barrier without stopping."

Harry just stares at the veritably insane woman.

"Don't worry, dear, it's perfectly safe."

Harry swallows.

 _"It's okay, Harry. I'll smite her if she's wrong."_

 _"Please be quiet I'm about to run headfirst into a solid brick wall and I'd rather not be distracted thanks."_

Harry runs at the pillar, squeezing his eyes shut.

There's darkness, then warm light and the sound of steam.

Harry opens his eyes to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

* * *

 _"Trains are slow and cramped and bumpy."_

 _"You're being annoying."_

 _"You're being boring."_

 _"Maybe I don't want to talk to you."_

 _"Why wouldn't you?"_

 _"Maybe because you possessed me."_

 _"Six years too late for that argument, Harry."_

Someone knocks on the door, and Harry realises he's been glaring at the scenery for the past ten minutes. He turns to see the redheaded boy whose name Harry can't recall standing unsurely at the door.

"Uh, do you mind? Everywhere else is full."

"No, no — go ahead," Harry says, smiling and gesturing to the seat opposite.

He sits. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Ron's eyes widen, and Harry's stomach sinks. "Harry Potter? So then... Do you really have the..." Ron lowers his voice to a whisper. "The scar?"

Harry raises his eyebrows, but nevertheless pushes his wild hair out of the way to show Ron his unusually shaped scar.

Ron grins. "Wicked."

Harry laughs, trying to flatten his hair back down but to no avail.

The next few hours are spent talking about Hogwarts, with Lucifer being mercifully quiet (read: ignoring him like an infant). Harry is sure he became Ron's best mate the very second he bought a trolley full of sweets. He was shown the boy's pet rat, and though he doesn't say anything, Harry immediately dislikes it. Something just feels wrong about it. A bushy haired girl, Hermione Granger, came in looking for some boy's toad. She seemed nice enough, if not a bit of a know-it-all.

Still, though, Harry is actually quite optimistic about Hogwarts.

* * *

Lucifer listens carefully to everything he's told about the Wizarding World. It really has progressed quite a bit, hasn't it? Casting his awareness out over the entire school grounds, Lucifer learns every little secret this school could possibly be hiding — and there are a surprising amount. By human standards, the castle is quite impressive, he thinks. The grounds are definitely big enough, should he feel the need to stretch his wings.

Standing in the antechamber, he watches the same platinum blonde boy from the robes shop — Madam Malkins or something? — approach Harry, backed by two rather large, rather stupid looking boys.

"So it's true, what they've been saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts," the boy says, sounding far too interested for Lucifer's liking.

Whispers break out. It really doesn't sit well with him that these people — these _children_ — know something about his vessel that he didn't until very recently.

Draco Malfoy, the boy introduces himself as. What a curious surname.

He makes a jab at the ginger kid and his family, and Lucifer keeps back. He's curious to see how Harry will handle it.

"I think I can decide the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Ooh, Lucifer is almost proud of the cold dismissal that was _oh so_ clear in Harry's tone. Maybe he's had more of an influence than he thought.

 _"Nicely done, Harry."_

The doors to the Great Hall open, and the first years file in. He can feel Harry's nervousness.

 _"Lucifer?"_

 _"Mm?"_

 _"What are you going to do about this Sorting Hat."_

 _"What about it?"_

 _"Weren't you listening?"_

 _"Busy learning everything I can about this place. What about the Hat?"_

But as he sees Abbot, Hannah go up to be placed in Hufflepuff (and what ridiculous names they have), Lucifer quickly realises the problem.

 _"Ah. Don't worry. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."_

 _"Not helpful."_

Names are read out and Houses are given. When Potter, Harry is announced, whispers once more descend on the crowd.

 _"Don't worry, Harry, a little hero worship never hurt anyone."_

 _"I wish you'd shut up."_

Panic is the last thing Lucifer receives from the boy before Harry throws up the mental barrier as soon as he sits himself on the stool.

 _"Harry!"_ Lucifer yells, trying to do something about the Hat before-

Oh.

The Hat is placed on Harry's head. And Lucifer recognises it.

The presence completely tears down the barrier, leaving all lines of communication open, so to say.

 _"Dad what the hell are you doing in a hat."_

 **"Hello, Lucifer, Harry. I felt like having a chat to see how things are going, and the Hat was more than willing to let me take over for a minute or two."**

Lucifer cannot actually believe his Father. _"Things are fine, now please leave."_

He can feel Harry's panic.

 **"Don't be afraid, Harry. While I'm sure my son has told you some less than complimentary things about me—"**

 _"—don't act like you don't know every damn thing that I've said, done or seen these past six years—"_

 **"—you don't have to be scared of me. I'm just checking up on the two of you."**

For crying out loud, it's almost as thought the Meddling Old Coot doesn't trust him. It's _exactly_ like He doesn't trust him. Does _no one_ trust him? Feeling more than a little irked and very much wanting this encounter to be over, Lucifer says, _"You've checked, and now you can leave."_

 _"Uh..."_ Harry trails off, bewildered and _completely_ ignoring Lucifer, which is beyond rude when sharing a headspace with said archangel. _"Why?"_

 **"I want to know if you're happy."**

 _"I, um, yeah, I guess."_

 **"Good. Lucifer, it looks like your work is half done."**

He immediately gets a hold of his emotions before he has a chance to identify that cold, heavy feeling at the centre of his Grace. Any fiery retort he had ready flickers out and dies.

 **"Harry, you'll need my son more than you know in the coming years. You won't have an easy life, I can tell you that now."**

 _"Oh,"_ Harry says. Lucifer feels his fear. _"Uh, anything I should look out for?"_

 **"Harry,"** his Dad sounds amused, the bastard. **"That's cheating."**

 _"Um, right, sorry,"_ Harry says, sheepish.

 **"Don't be,"** He says kindly, and Lucifer would roll his eyes if he was in control of his vessel. **"I'll tell you what I told Lucifer, Harry: I believe you can forge your own destiny."**

Harry evidently doesn't know what to make of that, so the boy remains silent.

 _"You can go now,"_ Lucifer says flatly, totally and completely ready for the entire year to be over already.

 **"I might check in again. You're doing well, my son."** His presence recedes, and the only thing remaining is the awareness of the Hat.

 _"Well now, this is something I haven't seen before,"_ the Hat says good-naturedly in a deep, gravelly voice.

 _"You're the Sorting Hat?"_ Lucifer asks, weary after his Dad's little visit and just wanting quiet.

 _"I am. And you are not Harry Potter."_

 _"I'm Harry, that's, uh—"_

 _"Lucifer,"_ he says bluntly, making his presence very much known to the Hat. If the infernal thing can deal with the full presence of his Father, it can deal with the Grace of an archangel.

 _"...I see. From looking at you both I can see that I must treat you as one person rather than two."_

 _"Just get on with it,"_ Lucifer snaps, wanting the damned Hat to _sort_ them already.

 _"I think people are getting worried,"_ Harry says, and Lucifer brings his attention back to the Great Hall. Sure enough, people are starting to stare, and whispers once more rise.

 _"Never mind them, this is difficult... Knowledge — more than I've ever seen, my goodness… Ravenclaw wouldn't know what hit them... Courage, too, from the looks of your histories — old Godric's house would be ideal... But loyalty; to let someone you didn't know in your own mind just to help them. Helga would be proud... Ah, but it was a thirst to be better, wasn't it? Yes, ambition and cunning — traits you both possess in no small amount… Yes, I know just where to put you..._ Slytherin!"

Murmurs break out, and not a single person claps.

Everything is grave as Harry moves to sit with the green and silver house.

* * *

Harry doesn't like this. If it weren't for the fact that Lucifer's Dad — _God_ — decided to drop in to have a chat, he would have asked the Hat to place him anywhere but Slytherin. But no, God felt like the ideal time to stop by for the world's most uncomfortable family reunion was in the middle of the Sorting when all eyes were on the _Famous Harry Potter. A_ nd really, when you've got God in your head having a chat with you it's not like you could really pay much attention to anything else going on. But now Harry is in the dungeons, with everyone in his House avoiding so much as looking at him, and with Lucifer sulking.

 _"I'm not sulking, you brat."_

 _"Feels like you're sulking. Just because your Dad stopped by?"_

 _"Your dad didn't get your brother to throw you in Hell."_

 _"My dad's dead and I don't have a brother."_

 _"Cry me a river, Harry. The way I see it, you're lucky."_

Harry has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he heads up to the boys' dorm. He opens the door and holds back a sigh. Brilliant. He's sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. There are three others in the room too: Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Miles Bletchley.

 _"This is going to be a nightmare."_

 _"Cheer up. You're only going to be with them maybe twenty hours a day."_

 _"Thanks. I feel much better."_

Malfoy glares at him. Harry ignores him, drags his trunk over to the available bed, and begins unpacking.

Everything is done in a stony silence, and that's how it goes until lights-out.

* * *

The next day when Harry enters the Great Hall for breakfast, everything goes silent.

 _"Think they might have been talking about you?"_

Harry ignores the archangel and sits at the Slytherin table. Conversation slowly returns to the occupants of the Hall. When Blaise Zabini slides in beside him, Harry has to admit he's surprised.

"Slytherin is going to chew you up and spit you back out again if you don't mark your place."

"I... What?" Harry stares at the boy, startled.

"Well, for starters," Zabini says, helping himself to toast from the centre of the table. "You're a half-blood, which automatically puts you at a disadvantage."

"I'm sorry but I'm really not interested in any power plays going on in this House," Harry says, grabbing a slice of toast and moving to stand.

"You're already playing, Potter. To be in Slytherin House is to play the game."

Harry sits back down, regarding the boy with interest. "Alright, explain it."

Zabini smirks.

* * *

Zabini seems like an alright guy, if not a little full of himself (but then, who isn't in this house?). It's just a shame that Harry really isn't interested in this elaborate game Slytherin has going on.

In Potions, Harry sees the divide in the classroom very clearly. Slytherins on one side, Gryffindors on the other. What he's about to do is basically social suicide in Slytherin, but at least it'll make his feelings on the matter very clear.

Harry goes over to the middle if the room, where Hermione is sat. On one side is Ron, but on her other side is an empty chair.

Hermione looks up at him in surprise. "Oh, Harry, hello."

"Can I sit here?" He asks.

Ron eyes him warily. "You're in Slytherin."

"And you're in Gryffindor. I have eyes."

Hermione interjects. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Harry looks around. People are staring at him in open disbelief. "Well," he starts, shrugging. "Technically I'm still on the Slytherin side of the room."

Hermione smiles, albeit a little unsurely. "Alright then."

Harry seats himself beside her, feeling the eyes of every Slytherin and Gryffindor on him.

 _"You're going to have fun explaining this when the day's over."_

Harry raises the mental block, already dreading it but not regretting it in the slightest.

* * *

Lucifer is curious about that Professor Severus Snape. He seems determined to ignore Harry, and every time the boy manages to answer a question correctly he simply glares and moves on.

So Lucifer may or may not be taking a little look inside the man's mind, and possibly through some memories of his.

Oh.

The most prominent thought in Snape's mind, seemingly repeated whenever he looks at Harry is:

 _He has Lily's eyes._

Lucifer might not understand this kind of love, but the man's sense of loss is something Lucifer only remembers feeling once. Through the cracks of the Cage, hearing the whispers of the Host… Feeling their grief as they sang about the death of Gabriel, the Messenger, youngest of the archangels, and Lucifer's little brother.

It's a hollow, cold sensation, and he pulls away from the potion master's mind before he can dwell on it any longer.

And the Mark aches, but that could also just be him.

* * *

Flying lessons. On _brooms._ Harry isn't sure how to feel about this, but he can feel Lucifer's distaste at the mere notion of it. Whatever. The archangel can't dictate what he does or doesn't enjoy doing.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say _up!"_

Madam Hooch is a strict woman, but there's something about the idea of _flying — him_ flying, _not_ Lucifer — that's so enticing, so thrilling, that he's willing to put up with anything.

 _"You can't tell me that you think a wooden_ stick _is better than_ wings?" Lucifer asks, indignant.

 _"At least I can control where I'm going,"_ Harry retorts.

Lucifer recedes, feeling rather like he's pouting.

"Up!" Harry orders the broom, and it flies into his hand on the first try while his classmates struggle.

"Grip it tight. You don't want to be slipping off the end," Madam Hooch says, and — just like that — Lucifer cackles wildly at the back of his mind, and Harry has to bite his lip to stop laughing.

 _"Grip it tight, Harry."_

 _"Shut up — not in the middle of a lesson!"_

 _"Is that a promise for later?"_

 _"You're disgusting."_ But Harry bites down on his lip harder to stop laughing.

Ron gives him an odd look from over on the ' _Gryffindor side'._ "You alright?"

Harry nods, still trying to suppress a grin.

It's at that moment, as Madam Hooch is giving further instructions, that Neville Longbottom lifts shakily off the ground and into the air. What follows is an all around disaster. When Longbottom is hanging from a statue by his robes, Harry knows this can't end well.

 _"Lucifer, help him,"_ he says.

 _"Why would I do that?"_

 _"He's a kid!"_

 _"He's human. His mortality is nothing new. There are a few billion other kids to replace him."_

 _"Lucifer, please!"_ He says frantically when he sees Longbottom's robe begin to tear.

And, being incredibly petulant about it, Lucifer's Grace stretches out and diverts Longbottom's fall so that he is caught on a torch on his way down. When he finally hits the ground, he has a sprained wrist and nothing more.

 _"Thank you,"_ Harry says, breathing a sigh of relief.

 _"Shut up,"_ Lucifer says.

Once again, Harry has to bite down on his lip to suppress his grin. From the corner of his eye he sees Malfoy pick up a spherical glass object. Frowning, he listens as the blonde insults Longbottom brutally. "—maybe he would have remembered to land on his fat arse!"

Crabbe and Goyle snicker, and Harry glares at Malfoy.

He steps up to the boy. "That doesn't belong to you," he says, nodding down at the… thing. Harry honestly has no idea what it is, but it very obviously isn't Malfoy's.

The blonde straightens and glares daggers at Harry. "Oh yeah? Finders keepers, Potter."

"You'll be finding my foot up your arse in a minute, Malfoy. Keep _that,"_ Harry says, keeping his voice steady.

Several people discreetly giggle, and Harry feels Lucifer listening with no small amount of amusement.

Crabbe and Goyle puff their chests out and move to flank Malfoy. Harry isn't intimidated.

Malfoy smirks, looking much more confident now that his bodyguards are with him. "If you want it so badly," he says, and mounts his broom. The boy gracefully rises from the ground and does a loop around Harry. "Come and get it."

Harry mounts the worn out broom and readies himself to kick off. He feels the ghosts of six huge wings behind him, ready to stabilise him should he wobble. He's about to rise from the ground when Hermione clamps a hand down on his arm.

"Harry, you _can't_ be serious!" She gasps, eyes wide.

He pulls his arm free. "I'll be fine. I've flown before," he says, trying to comfort her. It's not necessarily a lie, even if it is a non-truth.

Hermione backs away, watching him with a worried frown as he rises surprisingly smoothly from the floor and into the air.

Harry leans forwards as he rises to Malfoy's level, trying to find his centre of gravity.

 _"Gravity is for those ruled by the laws of physics. You won't fall,"_ Lucifer says confidently.

Harry sits a bit straighter on the broom.

Malfoy is lazily tossing and catching the glass sphere, smirking at Harry when he draws near.

"Give it here, Malfoy. It's not yours," Harry says blandly.

The blonde shrugs. "Like I said: if you want it, come and get it."

Harry darts forwards, making to grab the sphere. His fingers brush the glass, but Malfoy flips on his broom, coming to sit neatly atop it once Harry has gone past.

"You missed."

Harry scowls.

 _"If you want I could—"_

 _"No."_

Harry flies towards Malfoy with twice the speed, determination and confidence this time. Malfoy veers right, and Harry pursues. He comes up beside him as they begin to fly in vast circles around the courtyard.

"Give it to me, Malfoy!" He yells over the wind.

"Why'd you care so much, Potter?" Malfoy asks with a sneer.

"Because it's the right thing to do!" He retorts sharply, then makes to grab the sphere again.

Malfoy stops short, leaving Harry to stop a few yards away from him. The blonde is breathless, but Harry is barely affected by the exertion.

Malfoy smirks and fingers the sphere. "Let's see how fast you _really_ are."

And the git throws it.

He tosses it quick and far, and Harry zooms past Malfoy without a care for whether or not the boy falters on his broom. Faster, faster, almost there, oh crap that's a wall, almost there— Got it! Harry flips abruptly, just managing to pull away from the tower wall in time, with the sphere safe in his hand.

 _"Still think wings are better?"_ He asks, throwing and catching the ball with a triumphant grin.

Lucifer is far from impressed. _"Infinitely."_

* * *

Harry thinks he ought to be keeping a lower profile than this. But Snape, Dumbledore and McGonnogall had, unfortunately, been in an office in the tower Harry had almost crashed into, and they had all seen him flying.

He thought he'd be expelled.

He didn't expect to be made Slytherin Seeker.

Lucifer thinks it's hilarious.

Harry wonders why God is determined to draw attention to him.

* * *

Zabini doesn't sit across from him again. Rather, he sits a few seats down, but still within earshot, Harry notices. The boy's dark eyes seem to almost glitter when he looks over at him, and there's a slight quirk to his mouth.

Later, when Harry is walking back to the common room, Zabini comes into an easy stroll beside him.

"I've got to say it, Potter: you're crazy."

"Yeah, the warning was appreciated and everything, but I'm just not interested—"

"So I saw. Just thought that you should know that I'm not all that interested in a kingdom like Draco. And, to be perfectly honest, after you showing him up today there're a few people who'd rather throw their lot in with you."

Oh god. "I don't want—"

"I know. Just thought I'd warn you that you might have a few disciples, if you'd let them follow."

And isn't _that_ choice of wording more than a little ironic. Still thought, he can't help but wonder… "Everyone knows I'm a half-blood. Why are you being so…"

"Nice?" Zabini shrugs and quickens his pace as they near the dungeons. "What good would it do me if I wasn't? I'm already in the good books with both you and Draco."

As Zabini rounds the corner, Harry realises just how calculating his housemates really are.

* * *

Thanks to Lucifer, Harry doesn't really need to sleep. Also thanks to Lucifer, he can go about completely unnoticed by anyone. He spends his night exploring the castle, looking into all the interesting little places Lucifer has told him about.

 _"Seventh floor has an interesting room. I think the door is actually a dimensional gateway that leads to a different place depending on the person's needs."_

 _"Seventh floor?"_

 _"Mm. Behind a tapestry."_

 _"I'll look later. Can't be bothered figuring out the changing stairs at the moment."_

 _"Well, for now there's always the Dark Forest or the mysterious chamber beneath the school."_

Harry sighs. _"Anything that probably isn't dangerous?"_

 _"Where's the fun in that?"_

 _"What? In not dying?"_

 _"As if anything in that forest could kill me."_

Harry rolls his eyes at the archangel's typical overconfidence.

 _"It's not overconfidence if it really won't kill me."_

* * *

Harry considers it a miracle that he managed to dissuade Lucifer from taking them anywhere that could get him expelled. Instead they ended up in the library for a good six hours until it started getting light and Harry decided they should go back and dress for breakfast. Lucifer reluctantly agreed. Harry promised they will go back to the library and Lucifer can read all he wants (it's about the safest thing Harry can get the archangel interested in, so it's a win-win in that Harry gets to learn new things and Lucifer isn't destructively bored).

After breakfast he makes his way to lessons.

Defence Against the Dark Arts is taught by a complete and utter moron. By the time he's stuttered his way through a sentence, half the class has already lost interest and is doodling on their parchment.

It gets so dire that Harry actually takes down the mental wall in class with the hopes of having a decent conversation, given that Hermione is still listening to Quirrel's stammering with the hope of making some sense out of it.

 _"I can teach you what you need to know about defence."_

 _"You've been in Hell for god knows how long."_

 _"I'm aware that God knows, thank you, but I also wasn't ignorant to the goings-on in the world."_

 _"Right. Go on then."_

 _"Well, for starters I can tell you that this idiot is telling you everything you shouldn't do around a vampire."_

* * *

Lucifer wonders just what the hell the Headmaster was thinking when he hired Quirrel. For starters, the man is an idiot. And, of course, there is the fact that he reeks of dark magic.

He takes a closer look at the human's soul. It's darker than it should be, almost a murky grey, but there's also something there, tainting it... A dark, twisted mess that looks an awful lot like a larger version of what Lucifer saw attached to Harry's soul.

This isn't right. Something is definitely wrong here, and Lucifer intends to find out what.

* * *

 **A/N: So that's part one of part one of arc two. God, this is ridiculous. I'm gonna publish part two of part one of arc two soon-ish (maybe next week), because I'm done with First Year now. After First Year ends there will be an interlude for Harry's summer break (most of which I've written already). I really ought to start writing Second Year. Saying that, I'm only in my first week of sixth form and I already have a ton of homework, so I'll warn you now that this story will be pretty slow going. Maybe an update every couple of weeks, or every month if I'm busy. I know that's not really fair on you guys, but I won't have time to do much more.**

 **On another note, _thankyouthankyouthankyou you are all amazing people and I love you and I cannot believe how many people are actually following this story already._**


	3. Arc Two: First Year - II

**A/N: Thank you thank you thank you for your wonderful responses you beautiful, marvellous people.**

* * *

 **Arc Two: Part One (First Year) — II**

 _'Harry Potter in Slytherin House!'_

Harry sighs, seeing people stare at him from all around the Hall. The Daily Prophet, the main Wizarding newspaper, seems to be getting a kick out of him being in Slytherin. Actually, he seems to be the only person not making a big deal out of it. It's quite pathetic, really.

He's left the barrier down, because Lucifer is actually the only person willing to talk to him.

 _"So,"_ Lucifer begins. _"The third floor."_

 _"What about it?"_

 _"We're going to do some proper exploring tonight."_

Harry sighs silently, knowing there's no point arguing with him.

* * *

Back in his dorm room, Harry sits quietly on his bed with the curtains closed, doing his homework in silence.

 _"I could just do it for you and we'd be out of here much quicker."_

 _"Shh. I'm busy."_

Harry writes down another function of a bezoar. He's just got another couple of inches left to write—

"Potter?"

Oh, for the love of god, what does Malfoy want? Harry pushes a curtain back, watching the blonde expectantly.

"I want to know why."

"You'll have to be more clear."

Malfoy scoffs. "You know what I'm talking about."

"True," Harry concedes, nodding. He doesn't need an archangel in his head to tell him what Draco is going on about. "But I want to hear you say it."

Malfoy glares at him. "Why are you so pathetically _Gryffindor?_ Why'd you stick up for that lump of a wizard, Longbottom? Why did you go to sit with the mudblood?"

Harry raises his eyebrows, and he can feel Lucifer stir. "The _what?"_

"The mudblood. That Granger girl."

"A _mudblood?_ What kind of a name is that?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Malfoy sneers. "A muggle-born then, if you're so touchy about it."

Harry is beyond angry. He's _furious_. "Let me tell you a story, Malfoy. You think it's all about blood purity? There's no such thing. We're all descended from the first little handful of humans — all of which were muggles. There wasn't _any_ kind of magic in the world until suddenly it appeared in some baby one day. It was a _blip_ , Malfoy. An _accident_. This entire master race idea you've got going on? It's _all_ based on an accident. You shouldn't even _be_ on this earth, never mind trying to establish that you're _better_ in any way than everyone else, just because the magical history in your family goes back a few thousand years further. In the grand scheme of eternity, that's _nothing._ It all starts somewhere, Malfoy, and it all started _without_ magic."

Malfoy is staring at him with wide eyes, and it takes Harry a moment to realise what he's just said, and to realise that they weren't all his own words.

 _"Lucifer?"_

The archangel is strangely quiet.

"You're lying. There's no way you could _possibly_ know that—"

"There's no way you could know otherwise, either. And, for the record, I have some fairly reliable sources," Harry says flatly. Not wanting to hear anything else the boy could have to say, Harry closes the curtain once more.

 _"Lucifer?"_ Harry tries again.

 _"...We've never really agreed on much before. I didn't expect that to happen. It shouldn't have happened."_

 _"What?"_

 _"You were speaking my words, Harry."_

 _"Oh... That's not such a big deal, is it?"_

 _"_ _Words have power, with the right amount of will behind them. I wasn't trying to take over, you understand."_

Harry stiffens when he realises just what that could mean. _"You're saying you could accidentally take over at any time, couldn't you?"_

 _"I could."_

 _"Just by getting angry."_

 _"_ _Yes."_

Harry is silent, thoughtful. _"Just so long as I know it could happen."_

 _"Mm. Ready to take a look at the third floor? There's some very interesting magic coming from that part of the castle."_

Harry sighs. _"If it shuts you up, yeah, let's go."_

* * *

A Cerberus. Why in Heaven and Hell is there a _Cerberus_ in a _school?_ Lucifer stares up at the growling, three headed dog, his feelings of incredulity matching Harry's own.

Harry looks around. His eyes hone in on something beneath the dog's paw — a trap door. With a thought, Lucifer renders the Cerberus unconscious.

 _"_ _The Cerberus was guarding that for a reason,"_ Harry says. _"We really shouldn't_ — _"_

 _"_ _I'm older than Heaven, Hell and Earth, Harry. I think I have the right to take a look in a trap door in a castle, don't you?"_

 _"_ _It's probably that attitude that got you kicked out!"_

Lucifer sighs. _"Don't be dull, Harry."_

 _"_ _I'm not being dull, I'm being reasonable."_

 _"_ _You're being dull."_

 _"_ _Look, we've go the whole year, okay? Can't we just go back to the dorm and actually_ think _about this?"_ Harry asks.

Lucifer makes sure he gets the urge to eye-roll across. _"The chances of there being something down there that can actually hurt me are incredibly slim."_

Stretching his Grace out, Lucifer throws the trap door open.

 _"_ _Don't do what I think you're going to do."_

 _"_ _What? This?"_ He compels Harry to take a step forward.

 _"_ _Stop. It."_

Lucifer laughs. " _You trust me that little?"_

 _"_ _Yes."_

Lucifer would smile, were he in full control at the moment. He knows how little Harry trusts him. It fascinates him that the boy hasn't tried to kick him out yet (not that he _could_ even if he wanted to). Even more fascinating is how willing Harry is to say outright how little he trusts him.

Such a curious boy.

Lucifer makes Harry jump down, down, down into the darkness through the trapdoor. Harry can hate him for it later.

* * *

Harry looks at the flames, weighing the risks. It's not holy fire, so Lucifer should be able to protect him from the worst, but it obviously has magical properties. Magical fire will probably still hurt quite a bit.

 _"Let me take over for a minute and you'll be fine."_

 _"No chance. I'll just make the potion."_

 _"_ _They'll know you've been here."_

He grimaces. Yeah, that's an issue.

Taking a breath, Harry steps through the flames. It stings, and he has to grit his teeth against the uncomfortable heat, but the cold of Lucifer's Grace washes over him. When he emerges on the other side, the minor burns heal almost instantly.

 _"_ _Stupid or suicidal. I can't decide which suits you better."_

 _"_ _Insane? I must be to put up with you."_

 _"_ _Well aren't you just adorable when you're annoyed?"_

Harry huffs and takes a look around the chamber. It's empty, totally and completely bare. Why would there be a chamber full of protections and wards ready if there's nothing to protect?

Unless the thing that needs protection isn't here yet.

And, of course, as soon as the thought crosses his mind, Lucifer says, _"I suppose we'll just have to keep coming back, then."_

Wonderful.

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the season, and Harry nervously waits with his team. He isn't comfortable; from what Ron has told him, there isn't a single player here above cheating, and none of them like him all that much given his association with _mudbloods_ and _blood-traitors._ But Snape, looking incredible sour about it, had said that Harry had better do all he could to catch the snitch otherwise he'd find himself cleaning cauldrons for a week.

The game begins.

Almost immediately, foul play is clear from the Slytherin team.

With a sneer of disgust at his own teammates, Harry sets off looking for a flash of gold.

 _"_ _Need a hand?"_

 _"_ _No. Be quiet_ — _Got it."_

Harry shoots forwards as fast as the old broom will allow. The snitch is a good two hundred yards away from him, but he is steady gaining on it. The Gryffindor seeker has noticed him and is in pursuit.

One hundred yards away.

The Gryffindor seeker is right behind him.

Fifty yards.

The Gryffindor seeker is beside him, and she tries to divert his flight path by bumping him. A slight shifting of Lucifer's wings and Harry barely moves an inch.

He stretches out his arm, pressing himself as close to the broom as he can.

Ten yards.

The seeker is falling behind.

Five yards.

She's come around his other side and is moving to ram him with more force this time.

One yard.

She buts into his side and manages to move him _just barely enough_ that he misses the snitch. The winged golden ball darts down, and Harry dives. The Gryfindor seeker, still by his side, follows. They are neck and neck, close to the ground and getting closer, it's a game of chicken, one of them will have to pull up and it certainly won't be him.

The Gryffindor seeker pulls up a fraction of a second before Harry, and it's all he needs to get closer to the snitch, to reach out, out, out. His fingers close around the ball.

 _"_ _Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Slytherin wins one hundred and eighty to thirty!"_

Harry sits back on his broom, turning the snitch in his hands. He hopes this doesn't bring even more attention to him.

* * *

Having spent the last few weeks wandering the castle at night (and Lucifer insisting they check the mysterious third floor every night but to no avail), Harry is honestly surprised he hasn't found this empty classroom before. Of course, there are a lot of them int he school, and this one _is_ somewhat out of the way, but he would have thought he'd have noticed it when walking past before. What's even more interesting is what's inside the room.

It's a mirror, large and golden and gilded, with strange writing on top. As Harry gets closer, he tries to make out the gibberish inscribed on the mirror. He should be able to understand it, because Lucifer knows every language ever to exist, so why can't he—

Oh.

 _"_ _That's just ridiculous,"_ Lucifer deadpans, and Harry quite agrees.

 _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Backwards. _Why_ do wizards insist on being so _awkward?_ Still though, Harry is intrigued, and he can feel Lucifer's curiosity too. Harry edges closer to the mirror and looks into it.

A redheaded woman, smiling down at him with all the love in the world, stands behind him alongside a dark haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Standing alongside Harry is a hazel eyed boy whom he has only ever seen in his dreams.

He doesn't dare say their names out loud. His mother, his father... and Lucifer when, to Harry, he was still just Sam.

 _"Harry."_

He barely notices Lucifer talking to him. His chest feels hollow, and his heartbeat seems to echo in the silence.

 _"_ _Harry."_

In the reflection, his mother places a hand on his shoulder. Harry lifts a hand to his shoulder, wanting — _needing_ — to touch, to _know_. When all he feels is the material of his wooly jumper, that hollow feeling grows even deeper.

 _"_ _Harry, please."_

Sam slings an arm across his shoulders, and Harry flinches as though he can actually feel the phantom sensation of a comforting arm around him. His father runs a hand playfully through his messy hair, and Harry _wants_ to _feel_ it.

 _"Harry,_ please."

He shuts his eyes, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Lucifer's desperation for him to look away is probably the only thing that actually makes him blink, and that terrifies him slightly. He takes notice of Lucifer's feelings of longing, and he realises that the archangel must have seen something different to him.

Harry doesn't object to Lucifer taking control and flying them away.

Far, far away from the mirror, from Hogwarts, and from England.

Harry has never been more grateful to lose control of his limbs.

* * *

Lucifer crashes down onto the peak of Mount Everest so hard that the rock cracks and crumbles, knocking a good few metres off the top and causing an avalanche on the entire northern face of the mountain. He gathers his wings around him and sits hunched on the cold stone, legs hanging over a hundred foot drop. The air is thin, but clear and icy; he inhales, long and deep, and tries to forget.

He tries to forget the image of Michael smiling next to him, looking like he's barely suppressing laughter. He tries to forget Gabriel grinning with an arm slung over his shoulders. He tries to forget Raphael smiling, looking simultaneously exasperated and amused in a way that only he ever could. He tries to forget the hundreds of angels stood behind them that Lucifer remembers from Heaven, all happy and content. He tries to forget his Dad watching, looking happy and proud and loving—

Lucifer closes his eyes and tries to forget.

He doesn't have to ask Harry what he saw in the mirror; the boy is practically broadcasting the image to him, as well as his pain and longing and sadness and-

Lucifer tries to forget that too.

For the first time in a long, long time, Lucifer is very much aware of the cold around him.

* * *

It's some time before Lucifer recedes — silently, with an alarming lack of any emotion whatsoever — and Harry is left stranded at the summit of Everest. He doesn't know what Lucifer saw in the mirror, but it must have been worse (is that even the right way to describe it? Saying ' _better'_ just seems so completely wrong) than Harry's reflection.

He sighs, heart heavy, and decides to make the most of the view. It really is spectacular, after all.

Even as Harry looks out over the snow capped mountain range, Lucifer's silence is deafening.

 _"_ _Lucifer?"_ He calls tentatively.

The only sign the archangel is even listening is a stirring of his Grace.

 _"_ _Are you alright?"_ He asks, grimacing as he realises how completely _stupid_ that question was. He makes sure his feelings of apology are known.

Lucifer acknowledges them, but remains silent.

At least he hasn't raised the barrier. _"We should probably get back before the others start waking up."_

There's confusion, then realisation, then something akin to relief and gratitude from Lucifer.

Then they're flying over continents and seas, and Harry is sat behind the curtains of his bed.

There is a silent agreement between them to never speak of what they saw in the mirror.

* * *

Something needs to be done about the Defence teacher, Lucifer decides. If he has to put up with one more stuttered explanation of how one shouldn't deal with ghouls, he's going to smite someone. And he isn't sure his Dad will be too thrilled about that.

So something needs to be done.

While Harry is in lessons, with the mental barrier raised, Lucifer stretches his Grace out and starts working.

It's little things, really. A little doubt here, a bit of discord there. Just enough to get the majority of the school's student and teacher population dissatisfied with Quirrel's teaching. Soon enough complaints are filed. Not long after, Dumbledore is discussing Quirrel's position in the school with the school board.

It's a week after Lucifer began his subtle manipulation that Quirrel is sacked, and Lucifer certainly does _not_ miss the dark fury that flashes across the (perhaps not so timid after all) professor's face.

Good riddance. That odd, writhing mess of black attached to his soul didn't sit well with Lucifer at all. He won't miss the fool, and he's certain no one else will.

Now he just has to put up with Halloween approaching.

He really hopes the new teacher is someone _interesting._ Or at the very least, someone not quite so easy to get rid of.

* * *

The school is buzzing with news of a new DADA teacher. Apparently he's brilliant, completely mental, and fantastically hilarious. At least, that's what Ron told him his brothers have said. So, a week before Halloween, Harry isn't surprised to find an unfamiliar face in the DADA classroom. The appearance, however, _is_ surprising if only because of how typically _Muggle-ish_ it is. He's short and wears khaki trousers and a dark grey shirt, with light brown hair and startlingly warm golden eyes, like the sunrise.

But Harry suddenly feels Lucifer's Grace roil, and he has to sit down quickly before he falls down.

 _"What the hell?!"_

 _"It's him. I thought he was dead, but it's him. Oh, Dad, how did I not know he was alive?"_

 _"Lucifer, what the hell is wrong with you?"_

 _"Gabriel. It's Gabriel."_

* * *

Harry's eyes widen, and he stares at his new teacher. If he concentrates and looks carefully, he can just about make out the shadows of six, looming wings folded neatly behind him.

 _"Your little brother, Gabriel? The one who_ — _"_

 _"Who left and we all thought was dead."_

 _"Oh."_

Lucifer reigns in his Grace, and Harry can breathe properly again. Ron sits down beside him.

"Hey kids, I'm your awesome new teacher," Gabriel says with a grin and a very American accent.

 _"We don't have accents, Harry. We speak in whatever accent the vessel does."_

 _"That's great, but why is your not-dead brother teaching my Defence class?"_

 _"No clue."_

"Call me Loki," Gabriel says, looking around at their faces, and Harry is pretty sure he glares right through him and at Lucifer.

 _"I think he knows."_

 _"Oh, really? What was your first clue?"_

"Couple of things: don't call me _sir_ , and don't raise your hand," Gabriel says.

Beside Harry, Hermione frowns.

"Loki's a pagan god, isn't he?" Theodore Nott calls from the back of the room.

"I am, yeah," Gabriel says.

Harry is confused, but Lucifer's anger consumes everything to the point where even _he_ is angry with Gabriel, though he doesn't know why.

"Well, kids, to start everything off I thought I'd teach you some things that aren't on your curriculum — and later on, I'll be correcting everything _wrong_ that's already _in_ your curriculum. So today we'll be talking about deities," Gabriel says, and he stares Harry — no, _Lucifer -_ dead in the eyes as he continues. "Your basic pagans and their pantheons, the mythology behind it, how to protect against them; we might get around to talking about the Big Man Himself, and His angels. Hell, we might even get to the _Devil."_

Harry wants to leave, to make up some excuse about being ill and needing to lie down, but Lucifer's rage is ice cold and it freezes him in place.

 _"Lucifer?"_

 _"He's going to wish he was dead by the time I'm through with him."_

* * *

" _Harry_ , can I talk to you for a minute?" Gabriel says as people begin leaving the room for dinner.

Harry grimaces. He'd hoped he would be able to get away from the archangel and potentially prevent the apocalypse.

 _"Don't be ridiculous. I'd need Michael here for that. A fight with Gabriel would probably only destroy Europe and disrupt the planet's weather for a few millennia."_

 _"Oh, is that all?"_

Harry turns back, seeing Hermione and Ron give him a worried look. He catches their arms as they tried to walk past. "Don't wait up. Please," he says desperately, seeing their worried expressions. "Please just go to dinner."

"Harry, what—"

"I'll explain later."

Looking more worried and incredibly unhappy about not being able to stay, they leave. a few more moments, and Harry and Lucifer are alone with Gabriel. The door slams closed behind him, and he doesn't quite manage to suppress his flinch.

 _"I won't let anything happen to you."_

 _"Wish I believed that."_

He can feel Lucifer's glare without him actually being in control.

Gabriel moves to stand at the far end of the room, his arms folded and an unreadable expression on his face. "So. You're out."

"Um, d'you want to talk to each other?" Harry asks unsurely, because Lucifer hasn't _actually_ said that he wants to talk to Gabriel.

The youngest archangel frowns. "You're Harry?"

He nods, slightly terrified.

Gabriel seems to falter. "He's kept you conscious?"

"Uh—"

 _"Harry, let me talk to him."_

 _"You sure?"_

Harry doesn't need a reply; Lucifer's cool derision bleeding through is enough.

"Um, Lucifer wants to talk to you," Harry says.

Gabriel looks pained for a moment, but then a hardened mask is set in place.

Harry resignedly lets Lucifer push himself forwards.

* * *

Lucifer glares at Gabriel. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were in _Hell_ preparing for a fight to the death with our _brother,_ but I guess no one's really been living up to their expectations lately, have they?"

 _"You_ have _no right_ to be angry right now—"

"No _right?!"_ Gabriel thundered, and Lucifer sees his wings bristle. "I have _every_ right to chew you out, you arrogant, spoilt, _selfish_ asshole!"

"Don't make me put you down, Gabriel. You know I can do it," Lucifer threatens, flaring his wings in warning despite the pain it causes him.

Gabriel glowers. "Don't talk to me like I'm Michael."

His Grace lashes out, and Gabriel's outer wings flare. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me about Michael! Not _you_ , who _left_. _You,_ who is no better than _He."_

"I left because you gave me no choice!" Gabriel yells, taking a step forwards.

"You were a coward! We _needed_ you!" Lucifer insists, reigning his Grace in before it damages something.

"A _coward?!"_ Gabriel repeats, and some of his true voice leaks through his vessel, making the windows rattle. "If that means leaving so I don't have to _watch my brothers kill each other,_ then _yeah,_ Lucifer, _I'm a fucking coward._ You won't hear me apologising for the consequences of _your_ arrogance in believing the Mark wasn't changing you."

The windows blow out as his Grace roils. "The Mark has done _nothing_ to me!"

"You're so neck deep in denial you're more willing to believe that you _chose_ to fight Michael instead of the Mark forcing you to do it?!"

 _"The Mark has not corrupted me!"_ he roars, charging forwards and slamming Gabriel into the wall.

He's going to kill him.

Lucifer has not been twisted by the Mark.

He will _end_ this traitor for suggesting otherwise.

Lucifer has not changed.

He will crush the life out of Gabriel's Grace.

Lucifer committed his sins of his own free will.

There is a noise that sounds like screaming at the back of his consciousness, but his fury drowns out the sound.

Gabriel glares down at him defiantly. Though he is barely able to speak through the grip Lucifer has on his throat, he rasps out, "Is this what it's come to, Lucifer? You're so blinded by your own self-image that you won't even admit that the Mark is pushing you to choke your own brother? Or is this really, truly _you?"_

He—

The screaming takes the form of words. Harry's words.

 _"Lucifer! Lucifer, please! It hurts and I don't want you to kill him because he's your brother and it hurts and I'm_ burning!"

His eyes widen a fraction as those words cut through his rage like his own angel blade.

The Mark pulses in anticipation.

No. No.

No.

Lucifer forces himself to let go of Gabriel and staggers back, catching himself on a table.

He almost— He'd been about to— Lucifer— _Gabriel—_

 _"Lucifer?"_ Harry sounds strained, weak.

The Mark burns angrily.

No.

Lucifer retreats behind Harry's soul, curling his wings tightly to him and raising the barrier.

No.

* * *

Harry finds himself thrown back in control of his body, and he sags to the floor, shaking. He hurts. He hurts everywhere and anywhere, from his muscles to his mind to his brain to his soul. He gasps for air, wrapping his arms around himself with a small, strangled sound.

 _"…Lucifer?"_

No answer. The barrier is in place, and Harry knows he has no hope of prying it down.

He looks up at Gabriel, who stares down at him with an unreadable expression.

"You care," the archangel says.

Harry frowns. "Wh—What?"

"About Lucifer. You actually care."

"Well, yeah—"

"And… he cares about you?" Gabriel says, sounding confused.

He flinches back slightly when Gabriel moves closer to crouch in front of him, immediately gasping in pain when his entire being screams in protest of the movement.

"What changed?" Gabriel murmurs, more to himself than to Harry.

"God. God gave him a second chance," Harry says, just wishing that the archangel would leave him alone.

"God," Gabriel repeats with a grimace, like the idea is distasteful, but he doesn't reject Harry's statement.

"I'm giving him a chance too," he says, not knowing why he thinks his opinion might matter.

To his surprise, Gabriel actually seems interested. "Why?"

Harry shakes his head tiredly. "I don't know. I was five when I let him in my head. After that it was either give him a chance or drive myself crazy fearing the Devil in my head."

Gabriel's mouth twitches in a slight smile, but his golden eyes are pained. "I'm sticking around for a while. When he stops sulking, tell him that. And tell him that I'm only here because Dad explained things to me, and I expect him to _not_ be a dick about it."

Harry nods, exhausted.

Gabriel reaches out and taps him on his forehead.

The last thing Harry knows is the feel of his bed beneath him.

* * *

He almost killed Gabriel. He almost burnt Harry's soul out. He almost— almost—

Lucifer almost submitted to the Mark.

That dark, evil stain on his Grace has been eating away at the brilliance of his light for millennia. Only now, facing the consequences of what _could have happened,_ does Lucifer see it.

He curls tighter in on himself, feeling, for the first time since his Fall, afraid.

He hadn't known. Or had he? Had Lucifer simply ignored what was happening and tried to pass it off as free will?

Gabriel was once one of his most beloved siblings. Today, Lucifer tried to smite him. All because he had been too terrified of the truth.

What if Michael turns up one day? What then? Their tempers clash horrifically at the best of times; what happens when Lucifer is faced with his older brother?

What if he can't stop himself next time?

* * *

When he opens his eyes, it's to the green canopy of his large, soft bed above him. He sits up, feeling fine save for the pounding in his head.

 _"Lucifer?"_

No answer. Lucifer may as well not be there, for all the response Harry gets.

* * *

"Where _were_ you?!" Hermione demands, blocking his entrance to the Great Hall with her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

"We looked everywhere for you yesterday," Ron says with a frown.

"I didn't feel well." It's not exactly a lie.

"So you just skipped lessons for a day?" Hermione asks with an unimpressed, raised eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," he says. "Uh, Professor, um, Loki sent me back to my dorms." Also not a lie.

"What did he want to talk to you about?" Ron asks.

"Uh, nothing much. Just asking me about, um, the class. Whether or not I enjoyed it," Harry says rather weakly. He doesn't make a habit of lying, so when he makes an attempt at it it's remarkably pathetic.

And his friends clearly don't buy it one bit.

Harry forces a smile, makes excuses that he's hungry, and ducks around them to sit at the Slytherin table, all the while wishing Lucifer would talk to him.

* * *

It could happen again. Lucifer could lose control again, and this time Harry might not be able to bring him back to his senses. The Mark might be stronger than Harry's influence (because while he's currently not in denial, he may as well admit that Harry _might_ have had a slight influence on him) the next time.

He feels Harry try to pry the barrier away, but Lucifer fortifies it. He doesn't want to speak with the boy. Not when the fear is making his Grace even colder, and making the Mark burn darker.

* * *

Harry sighs in frustration when, for the fifth time in the last couple of hours, Lucifer ignores him. Breaking away from Ron and Hermione, Harry ducks into the unused girls bathroom on the second floor. He knows _why_ it's unused, but after a brief chat with Myrtle he can now come in here without anyone bothering him. That, and Lucifer had been curious about the chamber directly below that they have yet to explore.

Harry glares into the mirror over the sink. "Stop ignoring me."

No answer.

His hands ball into fists. "You're an _archangel,_ for gods sakes! And you're _sulking!"_

Nothing.

"Stop it. Just stop it. I don't know why you blame yourself for this, or what the hell this _Mark_ was that your brother was talking about, but I don't care. Just _stop it and talk to me."_

Silence.

Harry fumes, fingernails cutting into his palms. "You don't want to say anything? Fine. Then just _listen._ You are my friend. As much as you terrify me, and as much as I hate you a lot of the time, and as much as Gabriel is _totally and completely right_ about you being an arrogant, spoilt, selfish _arse,_ you're my _friend._

"I don't know what the hell this _Mark_ is, but pull yourself together and _deal with it._ Your Dad has given you a second chance, and after six years of being stuck with you in my head, I'm not letting you mess this up _now._

"And do you know what? As much as it didn't seem like it, I'm pretty sure Gabriel is giving you a chance too. Because, if you weren't too busy wallowing in self pity, you'd have heard that he's going to be sticking around for a while, and your Dad explained everything to him. Does _that_ sound like someone who wants things to turn out for the worst? Not everyone is against you, Lucifer. Corrupted by this Mark thing or not, even _you_ have to know that."

 _"You're wrong."_

Harry blinks, not having expected Lucifer to respond to his rant. _"About what?"_

 _"Everyone_ is _against me, and it's because of the Mark. I'm set apart from everyone because of it."_

 _"What even is that thing?"_

 _"Something evil and ancient. I won't bore you with the details. You just have to know that… it's the Mark that drove me to sin."_

 _"I thought you were a big believer in the free will of your actions?"_

Lucifer's laughter is bitter as it echoes in his head. _"I… I didn't want to admit what had been done to me. I thought I was stronger than that."_

 _"Well, this Mark has to be pretty strong too if it managed to sway you like that."_

 _"Stronger that you'll ever know."_

There's a brief silence, until Harry asks, _"So what now?"_

 _"I'm not going to_ sulk, _you brat."_

 _"Really? Because it seemed a lot like you were sulking and-"_

 _"Wallowing in self pity?"_

 _"Basically."_

Lucifer sighs. _"I'll face Gabriel tomorrow. For now I just want quiet."_

Harry nods and doesn't protest as Lucifer brings the wall back up.

* * *

 **A/N: If it seems like I've just thrown Gabriel in there for the hell of it, I'll tell you now that I have a bigger picture in mind that won't be apparent for a while yet.**


	4. Arc Two: First Year - III

"So-o-o!" Gabriel says with a sharp grin, clapping his hands together. "How'd you kill a pagan god, kids?"

Unsurprisingly, it's Hermione that raises her hand.

"Ah-ah, no hands."

Hermione reluctantly drops her arm, and straightens slightly. "Ah, the books say wooden stakes work."

"Ten points to red-ties!" Gabriel says, pointing at her. "That's pretty much it, though I won't go into the gorier details of how to deal with them."

"But a stake? They aren't vampires!" Pansy Parkinson protests.

Gabriel laughs. "You think you kill vampires with a _stake?_ Who the hell told you _that?"_

"It's common knowledge," some Gryffindor who Harry thinks is called Seamus says.

"Then it's _wrong_ common knowledge. The way to kill a vampire is to take it's head clean off. Anyway, we're not learning about _vampires_ today. Back to pagans! Who knows what I'm the god of?"

"Mischief?" Hermione says tentatively.

"Bingo! Mischief, lies, chaos and fire. Also the inventor of the fishing net — you're welcome," he says grandly with a bow. "Now, I'm not gonna lie: if you meet a pagan god, you don't stand a chance. At all. So your best bet is to run far, far away."

"What other pagans do you know?" Someone at the back of the room asks.

"Weeell," Gabriel drawls, and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. "There're thousands. I know a fair few — when you've lived as long as I have, it's kind of hard _not_ to bump into a few — and I get around quite a lot."

"Which gods?"

Harry listens closely, interested.

"Oh, you know. I'm from the Norse pantheon, so Thor, Odin, Baldur, Freyja, Frigg and the like. Coupla others from different pantheons; Hecate, Hades, Mercury — the poor Greeks have some serious identity issues thanks to the Romans. I got on well with Anansi and Isis."

Harry wonders how Lucifer is taking this information. If he's even listening, that is.

"Now!" Gabriel says, and Harry doesn't think he likes the edge his grin has taken on. "Let's move on to something much more boring but, regrettably, much more important: biblical lore!"

Of course.

"Harry! You know a lot about angels, right?" Gabriel asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Um."

"Great! Tell me something about angels."

"They're, uh, huge, genderless, celestial waveforms of light and power that need to possess people in order to safely walk the Earth without causing mass destruction and burning the eyes out of people?" He knows people are staring at him, but that is honestly the best description of an angel he can come up with, going off what Lucifer has told him. Seeing Gabriel smirking at him with his eyebrows raised, Harry looks down at the table and says, "And they were made to be warriors of God."

"Correct, twenty points to green-ties," Gabriel says, standing and beginning to pace at the front of the classroom. "There're _loads_ of different classes of angel, but the most well-known classes are Cherubim, Grigori, Seraphim, and Archangels. Who knows who the Archangels are?"

Hermione opens her mouth to reply, but steeling himself, Harry speaks up first, "Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and—" He takes a breath. "—Samael." Well. Maybe this'll get Lucifer talking, or at least shouting.

Gabriel looks like he's been punched in the gut, and Harry folds his arms around his middle. It's been a long, long time since he's referred to Lucifer by that name.

The barrier crumbles down.

 _"_ _Harry. What are you doing?"_

 _"_ _It got you to talk, didn't it?"_

"Uh," Gabriel clears his throat, having collected himself. "Yep. That's them. Moving on."

 _"_ _I was going to talk to him anyway."_

 _"_ _Is that why you were sulking again?"_

Lucifer is exasperated. _"I was_ not _sulking."_

 _"_ _Right, okay. But now I've got both your attention, so you can talk this out like grown archangels without tearing each other's throats out."_

 _"_ _Archangels, Harry, not vampires."_

 _"_ _Then act like it."_

 _"_ _Ouch, what are you, my Dad?"_

 _"_ _Ha, no. But I_ will _talk to the Hat again if it comes to it."_

 _"_ _Sorry,_ mother."

 _"_ _You don't have a mother, and even if you did I wouldn't want to be her."_

 _"_ _Right back at you,_ friend."

Harry sighs silently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Only Lucifer would ever openly taunt him about being an orphan, and only Lucifer could say it without it bothering him.

Some things never change.

* * *

Harry stays behind again, telling Ron and Hermione not to wait for him. As everyone leaves the room, he catches Malfoy watching him suspiciously, but the boy quickly looks away when he meets Harry's eyes.

Gabriel waits patiently, regarding Harry with curiosity.

"Are you both going to behave yourselves?" He asks.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, and he feels Lucifer's incredulity.

 _"_ _Harry, you don't really_ — _"_

"This is my body, and I'm not getting kicked out of it just because you two can't control yourselves."

Gabriel huffs out a laugh. "Fair enough, kid. I just want to talk to him. I'll do my best not to strangle him if he does the same."

 _"_ _Lucifer?"_

 _"_ _Ugh,_ fine."

Harry rolls his eyes at the stroppy tone. "He agrees."

With a deep breath, Harry lets Lucifer take over.

* * *

"So. Looks like you've got yourself a nice... friend," Gabriel says, obviously unsure how to phrase it.

Lucifer laughs slightly. "He's an interesting one."

Gabriel frowns. "Dad mentioned that you had to befriend a human. Did it have to be a kid?"

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Dad was very specific about the requirements for my vessel."

"Yeah. He mentioned that too."

"Are you just going to tell me what Dad did or didn't mention?" he asks irritably.

Gabriel frowns. "I'm just trying to understand. You've got to admit that after thousands of years this wasn't exactly an expectation."

"What? You were waiting until the apocalypse?"

"Yes, actually," Gabriel says seriously. "I want nothing to do with that whole mess; I just want it to be over."

Lucifer scowls, feeling his anger rising. "You disloyal—"

 _"Disloyal?!_ Have you even _heard_ yourself?!"

The Mark burns. He recoils, turning away from Gabriel and closing his eyes.

 _"Lucifer, calm down. It hurts when you're angry."_

That, if anything, makes him het a grip on his emotions. "Why'd you come back now? It isn't just because Dad told you about me."

"Yes and no. I'm back because Dad told me you were actually changing, and I thought..."

"What?" Lucifer asks, turning back to his brother.

Gabriel isn't looking at him. His golden eyes, so much like the sunrise in the Garden, are fixed on something outside the window. "I thought I might get my brother back, and that our family might actually _not_ have to go through an apocalypse just to end this. I— I _hoped_ that you'd changed, if only because—" Gabriel stops himself, jaw clenching shut.

"Gabriel?" Lucifer presses softly, wanting to hear what his brother has to say.

"It doesn't matter."

"Gabriel, please."

The youngest archangel looks at him sharply. "You rarely beg."

"So humour me."

"I miss it, alright? I miss home, I miss my family, I miss everything that didn't involve marching to Michael's fief. I just want _one_ brother or sister who won't scream and call me a traitor, or _disloyal,_ just because I didn't want to see you all kill each other."

The humans always say that pride was his greatest sin. They're not exactly wrong, as much as it pains him to admit it. Lucifer is proud, and the Mark only fuels his resistance to anything resembling an apology. But this is _Gabriel,_ who Lucifer remembers teaching to fly, who Lucifer remembers fighting alongside before the Beginning against the Darkness.

"I'm sorry."

And he didn't even have to choke the words out.

* * *

 _"Can I have my body back now?"_ Harry asks. He doesn't comment on the heart-to-heart Lucifer and Gabriel just had.

Lucifer is silent as he recedes behind Harry's soul, but he isn't sulking which is always good.

Gabriel disappears with the sound of fluttering wings, and Harry turns away and leaves the classroom. He doesn't expect Ron and Hermione to be standing there, waiting for him.

"Oh, uh, hi," he says.

Hermione frowns at him. "That was a lot of shouting."

"Shouting?"

"Yeah. As in, it sounded like Professor Loki knew you," Ron says, crossing his arms.

"Rather well, from the sounds of it," Hermione adds.

 _"Oh dear."_

 _"_ _It's not just my secret anymore, Harry. It's Gabriel's, too."_

 _"Well that's just great, isn't it?"_ Harry shifts on his feet and blurts, "We're, uh, possibly distantly related. Adoptively, I mean. Given that he's a pagan god and everything."

"You're serious," Ron deadpans.

Lucifer's cackling at the back of his mind really isn't helping.

"Yep," Harry says, smiling.

"Related _how,_ exactly?" Hermione asks suspiciously.

"Um. He's my dad's second cousin's sister-in-law's godfather's boyfriend?" He doesn't bother to wait for them to digest that. "So," Harry says happily. "Potions later, right?"

"Yeah," Ron says gloomily, drama forgotten.

Harry sighs. "Can't wait for Snape to glare at me some more."

"You're in Slytherin!"

"Doesn't mean he hates me any less. Course, I don't actually know _why_ he hates me. He likes Malfoy well enough."

Ron snickers. "Can't believe you have to share a room with that git."

Harry laughs and thumps the redhead in the arm. "Shut up. Just because you got Gryffindor."

Hermione sighs mournfully, thankfully having reluctantly let go of the Loki topic. "If only I'd got Ravenclaw. I wouldn't have to deal with this."

"Hey!"

* * *

 _"_ _Remind me why I'm doing this again?"_

 _"_ _Because it was your idea to get me talking to Gabriel."_

 _"_ _Right. In future, don't let me get any ideas, okay?"_

 _"_ _I'll do my best."_

It's dinnertime, and Harry is standing awkwardly outside the Defence classroom. Stupid him being _stupid_ suggested that Lucifer visit his brother at dinnertimes to try and bring back some of the brotherly love and tone down the angst levels. Of course, that means he has to be there, stuffed in the back of his own mind, listening on while two archangels struggle to play nice and not kill each other. He didn't really think it through, he admits, before he suggested it.

He raises his hand to knock, but the door swings open on its own. Okay then. Harry steps inside to see Gabriel sitting on his desk at the front of the room, legs swinging back and forth like a child.

"Harry, Luci, what can I do you for?" Gabriel asks, tilting his head. The archangel snaps his fingers, and a lollipop appears in his mouth.

"Uh, Lucifer wants to talk to you," Harry says, and waits for Lucifer to take over.

And waits.

And waits.

 _"_ _Lucifer?"_

The archangel doesn't answer.

"Um, he's not—"

"Lucifer, stop being an ass and get out here if you want to talk," Gabriel says exasperatedly.

With a feeling of resignation, Lucifer comes forward.

Why did Harry suggest this again? Oh, yeah, because he's an idiot.

* * *

"Sooo… 'sup, bro?" Gabriel asks with a grin.

Lucifer strolls to the front of the classroom, sitting on the desk in front of his little brother. "I'm just here to talk."

"'bout what? Because I've been behaving, you've been behaving, so there's not all that much to talk about."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. "Not all our conversation revolves around misbehaving."

Gabriel purses his lips. "You've got to admit that a great deal of it does, though."

He laughs. "Alright, I guess quite a bit of it does. But, really, how've you been?"

His brother narrows his eyes suspiciously. "You're making small talk?"

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "After being in Hell for a few millennia, can you blame me?"

Gabriel regards him in silence for a minute, then shrugs. "I've been fine. Playing the part of Trickster God for a while."

"Yeah," Lucifer says flatly, not happy with his brother's habits. "I've noticed."

Gabriel scowls at him. "Oh, don't give me that. You had your demons, Mike has his angels, and I've got my pagans. It's not like any of us actually _get along."_

"Then why bother with them?" He asks incredulously. "They're worse than humans!"

Gabriel stands, waving his hands and moving around the desk. He starts to make his way up the stairs towards his office. "Oh no, we are _not_ starting this."

"Gabriel—"

"Loki," his brother corrects sternly, stopping halfway up the stairs to glare down at him. "It's Loki. I haven't been Gabriel since I left Heaven, and I've got no plans to go back, so I'm still Loki. I was willing to let it slide the other day, but not anymore."

Lucifer rises from the table, taking a step forwards. "You would revoke your family so easily?"

Gabriel falters for a moment, then silently turns and walks the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Don't ignore me, _Gabriel!_ I _raised_ you!" He yells after his brother.

The youngest archangel pauses by the door. "You raised me. You taught me. You and Mike and Raph were the _world_ to me. But family just _wasn't_ enough when you were at each other's throats, was it?" Gabriel goes to close the door, but pokes his head around at the last moment to scowl at him. "And, for the record, I happen to _like_ humans."

The door slams shut, and Lucifer is left in the silent classroom, wondering if he'll ever be able to fix this.

* * *

Harry makes his way into an unoccupied bathroom, standing in front of a sink and staring into the mirror.

 _"_ _You're going back,"_ Harry says, liking to think that he can glare into his own eyes and straight at Lucifer in his reflection.

 _"_ _Excuse me?"_

 _"_ _I did not suffer through that awkward encounter just for you to give up and spend the rest of the school year sulking."_

 _"_ _How many times do I have to tell you: I do_ not _sulk."_

 _"_ _Always once more. But that's not the point; the point is that I don't want to have to deal with you moping about at the back of my mind and giving me a headache every we're in Defence."_

 _"_ _You're exaggerating."_

 _"_ _And you're avoiding the problem."_

 _"_ _Harry, Gabriel made it perfectly clear what he thinks—"_

 _"_ _Oh, come_ on! _He was hurting, and you were hurting, but you're both too stubborn to admit what the real problem is!"_

 _"_ _If you're suddenly an expert on the psychology of archangels, please, enlighten me."_

Harry feels Lucifer's derision, and he does _not_ appreciate it. _"I don't have to be an expert. I just have to read a Bible to see how messed up your family is."_

 _"_ _You've never read a Bible in your life."_

 _"_ _I went to Sunday school."_

 _"_ _And that provided_ such _an insight about angels, didn't it?"_

 _"_ _Look,"_ he says, sighing shortly and grinding his teeth in frustration. _"This Mark did something to you, and you did something which I_ know _you regret. But you either didn't realise it or you didn't want to admit you were wrong, and you and Michael were fighting about it. From what I heard about Raphael, he isn't much of a fighter, so he kept to himself. Gabriel, being your Dad's messenger and whatnot, he got caught in the crossfire because you hoped he'd have the answers."_

Lucifer's silence is enough to tell him that he's right.

 _"_ _Gabriel is a lot like your Dad, and I think that's why you're so angry. Your Dad loves humans, so does Gabriel. Your Dad left, so did Gabriel. Your Dad speaks, it's Gabriel who delivers the Message. Tell me something, Lucifer,"_ Harry says, and he hopes he's not miles off with what he's about to say. _"Are you angry at Gabriel, or your Dad?"_

The barrier is slammed up, and Harry sighs. He hopes he hasn't made Lucifer angry. It's one thing living with a sulking archangel; living with an angry one is a _nightmare._

* * *

It's the Christmas holiday, and Harry has made it his goal to get Lucifer and Gabriel talking. Just talking, no shouting. For the past month, both archangels have been edging around one another, and it's _infuriating._ Harry wishes he could just have one DADA lesson without getting a migraine from the pressure of Lucifer's Grace.

So, with two days to go until Christmas Day, Harry goes to the Defence classroom.

 _"_ _Harry, I don't want to talk to him."_

 _"_ _I thought you said you weren't a liar."_

 _"_ _Harry."_

 _"_ _Lucifer."_

He determinedly walks up to the door and knocks.

"Nope! We've never done the family holiday thing before, and we're not starting now, Lucifer!"

Harry takes a breath before he pushes the door open. Gabriel pokes his head out of his office door and scowls.

"Look, kid, I don't really want to talk to you or my bro, so just go enjoy your holiday, okay?"

Harry folds his arms. "It's Christmas."

"Yeah…?" Gabriel says slowly, like Harry's stating the obvious.

He huffs. "I get that you came _before_ all that and everything, and the whole pagan-god thing you've got going on isn't exactly big on Christian holidays, but it's a time when people are with their families. I don't have a family, so _neither of you_ are going to spend Christmas arguing when there's nothing more I'd like to do than see my mum or dad. So _grow up_ _and enjoy your holiday."_ It probably sinks in too late that he just called out two archangels on their bullshit. Too late to do anything about it anyway.

He feels Lucifer's total shock at his outburst, and Gabriel stares down at him with an expression of utter disbelief.

"Um, you know. If you want to." Right, because _that_ makes everything better.

 _"_ _Harry, I think I'm going to talk to my brother now."_

 _"_ _Right. You do that."_

Harry gratefully recedes into his own mortified consciousness.

* * *

Lucifer, still utterly perplexed over Harry's insistence, watches Gabriel as he slowly comes out of the office.

"So," Gabriel says, and the silence around them is stony. "Harry is… insistent."

"I think he has the makings of a hero complex, to be honest. Sickeningly well-meaning," Lucifer agrees.

He feels Harry's embarrassment mixed with indignation.

"That why he let you in?" Gabriel ventures.

Lucifer shrugs. "Partly."

His brother narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "You lied, didn't you?"

"I neglected to tell him my name, I didn't _lie_ — _"_

"Same thing, basically."

Lucifer glares at the youngest archangel. "Tell me something."

"You're an asshole. Anything else?"

He ignores the comment and presses on. "Why the pagans? Out of everywhere you could have gone, and everyone you could have hidden with, why did it have to be the _pagans?"_ he asks with a grimace, because _really,_ Lucifer thought he taught Gabriel _better_ than that.

Gabriel purses his lips, silent for a while. Then he wags a finger and begins to stroll down the stairs. "One condition: I'll tell you if you tell me something afterwards."

Wondering what Gabriel could possibly want to know, he says, "Alright then.

"I chose the pagans because they hate angels, and at that time I hated angels too. I thought there was something poetically ironic in it. Now, tell me: do you still want to go through with the Apocalypse?"

Lucifer frowns, deciding to deal with Gabriel's reason for joining the pagans later. "Dad said he'd put me back in Hell—"

"I don't _care_ what Dad said," Gabriel snaps, surprising him. He moves towards him until there is just a foot between them. "I want to know if you _want_ it or not."

He's silent for a while, because the question has honestly thrown him, and he can feel Harry's apprehensive curiosity, too. To be fair, he hasn't actually put much thought into the Apocalypse since he got out of the Cage. Mainly because none of his demons — not even Lilith or Azazel — know that he's out yet, and he doubts any of his brothers or sisters were paying close enough attention to the Cage to find out what he's been up to. But also… also because of Harry. The human has shown him that _maybe_ not _everyone_ on this planet is worthy of eternal damnation.

Hesitantly, still frowning as he tries to formulate a suitable answer, he says, "I'm… not as angry as I was, and I'm not angry at you. My rage was misdirected the other week. I… I recognise what the Mark has done. You were what showed me the truth of its influence over me. I… _don't_ want the Apocalypse anymore, but not because I have any love for humans. I don't want it because I don't want to see my siblings suffer any more than they already have. I don't want _you_ to suffer again."

To his surprise, Gabriel's hard gold eyes thaw and brighten, and his mouth pulls into a grin. "Aw, Luci, I love you too!"

Lucifer is abruptly pulled to the chest of his marginally taller, little brother. Face pressed into Gabriel's shoulder, Lucifer can only awkwardly pat the archangel's shoulders.

At the back of his consciousness, Harry laughs happily. The boy's sense of smug triumph is incredibly irritating.

* * *

Come Christmas morning, Harry is the only one left in First Year Slytherin. He dresses in a warm blue jumper and jeans and goes down to the common room, barely sparing the pile of gifts a glance.

 _"_ _I believe there's some for you,"_ Lucifer says.

Harry frowns and looks back at the pile. He goes through them until he sees a couple with his name on them. He picks up a large, squishy parcel. _"I don't get presents."_

 _"_ _I know. And it's not from me; I don't_ do _Christmas."_

Harry knows this, and it doesn't bother him in the slightest. He's never received anything other than _maybe_ a new pair of socks or some loose change from the Dursley's. He'd never expected to get something from anyone _here_.

Alright, he can see that one is from Hermione, one is from the Weasley family, but the one he's holding — this one doesn't have a name.

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

 _Use it well._

 _A very Merry Christmas to you._

Huh. As he tears into the paper, he says, _"How much do you want to bet it's from Dumbledore?"_

 _"_ _You're too young to bet. And I always win."_

 _"_ _Because you cheat."_

 _"_ _I do not_ — _"_

Harry ignores Lucifer in favour of examining the silky, shiny material in his hands. Lucifer looks closely at it, and Harry doesn't like the fascination radiating from him.

 _"_ _What is it?"_

 _"_ _I think you should put it on."_

Frowning, Harry does so. He stares with wide eyes at the floor, where his feet had once been visible.

"Whoa…" he breathes, twisting to look at his back — rather, where it should be.

 _"_ _Huh."_

 _"_ _Invisibility cloak. That's… wow."_

 _"_ _Death's shroud."_

Harry frowns. _"What?"_

 _"_ _I heard rumours that Death gave gifts to three mortal brothers… One a powerful wand, one a stone with the ability to summon the spirits of the departed, and the other a cloak that could hide them from Death himself. I thought it was just a story. I didn't think Death had_ actually…"

Harry pulls the cloak off, more than a little weirded out. _"Death, as in the Horseman?"_

 _"_ _Yeah."_

 _"_ _Oh."_

 _"_ _Let's go find Gabriel, see if he knows anything about this."_

* * *

"What, you think me and Death keep in touch?" Gabriel questions, pouring himself another drink of something very obviously alcoholic.

Lucifer wishes his brother would just give him a straight answer for once, because _that cloak unsettles him._ _"Just ask him if he knows anything about it."_

"We just want to know more about it. Lucifer said there was a a story about this cloak and two other things — a stone and a wand — that Death gave to three wizards a while back," Harry says.

Lucifer watches as Gabriel makes a face and bobs his head from side to side. "You've gotta understand, Harry, if Lucifer hasn't told you already: Death doesn't visit just _anybody._ He's old — as old as our Dad, maybe, and potentially just as strong. He's… _desensitised_ to everything, I guess. Can I see the cloak?"

He feels Harry's hesitation, but then the boy pulls the cloak out of his bag and hands it to the youngest archangel.

Lucifer studies Gabriel's expression closely as his brother runs his hands over the silky material. Gabriel purses his lips, frowns slightly, quirks an eyebrow, then hands the cloak back to Harry.

"It's definitely from the Daddy Reaper himself," Gabriel says, his eyes narrowed in thought. "He knows something."

Lucifer waits, but when no more is forthcoming, he says, _"Harry, I'm going to need him to say a little more than that."_

"Uh, what do you mean he knows something? Knows what?" Harry asks, stuffing the cloak back in his bag.

"I _mean,"_ Gabriel stresses, looking very unhappy. "That Death wouldn't just give three random wizards presents, just because they _outwitted_ him, or whatever the story says. Death doesn't _get_ outwitted."

Lucifer thinks he knows where this is going. _"Death has an endgame."_

He feels Harry's anxiety at that, but is impressed that the boy doesn't show it outwardly.

"Yeah, I'll bet my wings that Death has something planned," Gabriel says, nodding.

Lucifer groans.

Nothing good ever comes of primordial beings and their _P_ _lans._

* * *

 **A/N: Only one, maybe two more parts to First Year, and then updates will be slowing down again. A lot of this chapter and the last one has been centred on Lucifer and Gabriel —** **I hope it doesn't seem like I'm neglecting Harry. Next chapter should be a little more... quick-paced. Anyway, I hope you liked it, and thank you for your incredible feedback!**


	5. Arc Two: First Year - IV

**Arc Two: Part One (First Year) — IV**

With two days before the end of the holiday, Lucifer wants to make the most of having the castle mostly free of irritating _infants._ So he goes to Gabriel and asks him about the protected chamber beneath the school.

His brother raises his eyebrows. "You don't know about that?"

Lucifer huffs, irritated. "I _am_ stuffed at the back of the mind of a _child,_ in case you've forgotten."

 _"_ _You can leave any time you want, Mr My-Dad-Made-Me-Take-A-Puny-Human-Vessel,"_ Harry says, and Lucifer can very clearly see the conveyed _raised-eyebrow_ emotion Harry is projecting.

"Right," Gabriel says, looking completely _thrilled_ about this. "Well, brother-mine, Dumbledore is protecting the Philosopher's Stone."

Lucifer stares. "You're joking."

"Nope," Gabriel says, popping the _p._ "One of the main reasons why I came here as a teacher and not a student. I'm in on _all_ their dirty little secrets. Like did you know that Professor Flitwick had a thing with—"

"I think you should stop before Harry's soul burns out of his body from sheer mortification," Lucifer comments idly, paying closer attention to the curious feelings of mingled horror coming from the wizard.

Gabriel smirks wickedly. "Young ears. Forgot about that."

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Can we please focus on the fact that there is a _Philosopher's Stone_ in the school?"

"Sure, bro, but there's not really a lot to talk about," Gabriel says, leaning against his desk. "It's here because someone thought it was gonna be stolen from Gringotts. A few teachers have set up their own protections — I'm disappointed I didn't get a chance to, what with me filling in for the last guy and everything."

"The dog, weeds, the chess set, the keys, and the fire, right?"

"Dumbledore set up some magic mirror too. I dunno what use it is; I kind of tuned out," Gabriel shrugs.

Lucifer tries not to let his unease show, especially given that when he had looked into the mirror he had believed Gabriel to be dead. Now they're slowly but surely repairing their relationship.

 _"_ _Lucifer, what's a Philosopher's Stone?"_ Harry asks.

 _"_ _A glorified magic rock that halts ageing and can turn any metal into pure gold. It's a trick one of the Grigori thought up a few millennia ago, and humans — being the vile, greedy leeches that they are — endeavoured to create their own. Only one is known to exist today."_

 _"_ _So, it basically grants immortality?"_

 _"_ _There's no such thing as immortality,"_ Lucifer says blandly, and he ignores the confusion radiating from Harry.

 _"_ _But you're—"_

 _"_ _Sh."_ To Gabriel, he says, "We need to destroy it."

"I'm curious to see if anyone will actually try to steal it from the school. To break into Gringotts you've gotta be pretty damn desperate," Gabriel points out.

"True. But it's not something we want lying around."

Gabriel gives him a look. "Not something we want lying around mere _humans,_ you mean?"

Lucifer smirks and shrugs unrepentantly.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Well, if you're gonna get rid of the Stone at least let me tag along."

He grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Harry isn't sure what it is about the identical grins shared by Gabriel and Lucifer, but it really, really doesn't sit well with him.

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, Harry wonders just how his life became this messed up.

* * *

Death's cloak makes moving around the castle at night much easier, no matter what Lucifer says. Harry thinks it's useful, and if it was his dad's then it can't very well be _bad,_ can it?

 _"_ _Keep telling yourself that. Just know that an object from the Ultimate Neutral Party can't be anything good either,"_ Lucifer points out.

Harry silently slips into the third floor corridor, keeping an eye out for Mrs Norris. There's something about cats — they know things they shouldn't. Even Lucifer and Gabriel agree with him on that.

Entering the room at the end of the corridor, Harry stares at the Cerberus and lets out a long breath. _"That really is a big dog."_

 _"_ _Cerberuses are the ancestors of hellhounds. Of course it's a big dog,"_ Lucifer remarks.

There's the fluttering of wings, and then Gabriel is next to them. "Heya, folks. We doing this?"

 _"_ _Let me talk to him,"_ Lucifer says.

Harry sighs, but recedes.

"Gabriel, you check the other chambers. I'll go the last one and make sure no one's tampered with the Stone," he says.

Gabriel gives Lucifer a side look. "Wasn't aware you cared all that much about humans tampering with the Stone, Luci."

Lucifer glares. "The last thing I want is a human with delusions of immortality."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but nonetheless flies away.

 _"Why did you send him away?!"_ Harry demands as they fly to the mirror room.

 _"I don't want him to look at he mirror. Not before I destroy it, anyway,"_ Lucifer says softly, letting Harry take control again.

It just suddenly hits Harry that, despite everything, Gabriel is Lucifer's _little brother._ Of course he doesn't want the youngest archangel looking at the sodding mirror. Harry approaches the cursed object confidently, but keeps his eyes everywhere else.

"Well, Potter, I must say I'm impressed."

Harry turns, surprised he didn't hear someone coming. He's even more surprised when he sees that it's _Quirrel,_ of all people. Except, something is different... The man isn't quivering in his robes, and he actually managed a sentence without stuttering.

How did Gabriel miss him? Has he been here for long? How did he even get in the castle?

 _"Harry. Get way from him."_

Lucifer's caution unsettles him even more than Quirrel's drastic change in demeanour.

 _"Can't you deal with him?"_

"I'm aware of your intelligence, however these challenges were designed to test even the most skilled wizards."

 _"There's something wrong with him. I'd have to smite him."_

Harry takes a step back as Quirrel moves forwards.

"Move away from the mirror, Potter."

Gladly, Harry does so. The thought of looking into it makes him feel slightly ill. Quirrel glares at his reflection.

"I know what I want... But how do I _get_ it?"

 _"Use the boy!"_ a sibilant voice hisses.

Harry frowns, trying to determine where it came from.

 _"Harry, I really think you should let me—"_

 _"_ _He's just a teacher. He can't hurt me."_

He can feel Lucifer's frustration, but he ignores it.

"Potter!" Quirrel roars, turning to him with an expression of dark, terrible fury. "Come here and tell me what you see!"

Harry pales, and he can sense Lucifer draw back too. Quirrel makes to grab him, and that was probably his biggest mistake.

 _"You can hate me for it later."_

Harry is shoved back as the archangel surges forward.

* * *

That damned mirror is getting smashed, for starters. Lucifer hates the thing more than he's hated anything for a long, long time.

As he shoves Quirrel out of the way, he catches a glimpse of his reflection again.

Michael — Gabriel — Raphael — _Father—_

Lucifer sends his first through the glass, gritting his teeth in anger. He _hates_ it.

He rounds on Quirrel, who is enraged at the destruction of the mirror.

"You _fool!_ What have you done?!"

Lucifer doesn't dignify that with a response. He simply grabs Quirrel by his robes and slams him into the floor. The stone beneath the wizard cracks.

 _"_ _Lucifer! Don't!"_

"Are you after the Stone?" he asks calmly.

Quirrel groans.

 _"Get up, you pathetic creature!"_ hisses that voice again.

Lucifer narrows his eyes, looking past the surface and at that disfigured, writhing mess again. It's pulsing dangerously, almost like it's... angry.

"Tell me what you're after and this will be easier."

"Y—Yes. The— The Stone."

 _"Silence!"_ the voice hisses, furious.

Lucifer scowls down at the _thing_ beneath him. Right. Time to clean up.

 _"_ _No!"_ Harry screams in protest, but Lucifer couldn't care less.

He plunges his hand inside, deeper, deeper grasps the twisted consciousness, and _pulls_. Quirrel screams, the sounds echoing off the stone walls. With a final tug, the blackened mess is in his blood covered hand, caged by his fingers. So maybe could have been nicer about it, but he really doesn't give a damn about the human in his grasp.

He regards the little wisp of black smoke thoughtfully, ignoring the feeble moans of the quickly dying man beneath.

 _"_ _Lucifer,_ please— _Heal him!"_

"Now," he murmurs, once more ignoring Harry. "What are you?"

He looks closer and frowns. It's conscious, more than any magical form of possession should be, yet it's too small for a demon—

Lucifer recoils as the Mark _scorches_ his Grace and he realises that this _abomination_ is a torn, mangled human soul.

The thing uses whatever intelligence it has, taking advantage of Lucifer's repulsion, and flees.

And Lucifer — the Morningstar, His Second, the First Fallen — can only stare as he connects the dots.

* * *

Harry fights tooth and nail against the archangel, but it's no good. He can't fight his way forwards, because whenever he tries the blizzard that is Lucifer's Grace pushes him back with seemingly no effort.

Harry watches as Quirrel dies.

Harry watches from the corner of eyes that are no longer his as Gabriel stands, silhouetted by the flames, looking at his brother as though he is a stranger.

Harry watches as Lucifer moves away from the wispy little thing he'd been holding as though it's burnt him.

And then Lucifer raises the barrier, but not before the knowledge passes over their mental connection, telling Harry everything Lucifer has just realised about the black smoke that isn't black smoke it's a _soul_ and Harry has one of those _in him_ and—

Harry doesn't think he could bring himself to move if his body was his right now.

* * *

"You just couldn't leave it alone, could you."

Lucifer stares blankly at Gabriel, feeling ever so slightly numbed by Harry's anguish.

Gabriel isn't glaring at him. He has an odd look on his face; brow creased, mouth slightly open. There's nothing particularly aggressive about his posture either.

Lucifer doesn't follow what his brother is trying to say.

Gabriel shakes his head. "You just couldn't let the human live if you had an excuse to kill him, could you? You're all about loopholes. You always were."

"What… What?" Lucifer asks, frowning. He's still reeling over what he just discovered.

"How'd you think the kid feels about you ramming your hand through his ex-teacher's chest? Or didn't you stop to think about that?" Gabriel asks, and his tone is biting, unforgiving.

Lucifer looks at the shattered remains of the mirror. He sees a glint of red. He stoops down and picks up the Philosopher's Stone. Lucifer chills it. Colder, colder, until frost forms on the surface, and then he squeezes. The Stone shatters. It crumbles to dust as it falls to the floor.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Lucifer looks at Gabriel.

His brother's shoulders fall, and he shakes his head. "Right. Of course you're not. Just like old times."

And then Gabriel is gone.

Lucifer flies back to Harry's dorms.

* * *

When Harry regains control of his body, he is silent. Not simply because he's angry at Lucifer (furious, actually). He's silent because of that hideous, disgusting piece of soul that Lucifer tore from Quirrel.

He puts the barrier in place and makes his way over to the boys' bathroom. He removes his bloodied jumper with numb, mechanical movements and begins rinsing the blood off his palm before it dries.

Lucifer knows something more, but the barrier is raised and Harry doesn't want to bring it down yet. The archangel recognised something about the blackened soul, and that makes Harry nervous.

"What on earth are you— _Merlin,_ Potter!"

Harry turns to stare blankly at Malfoy, who in turn watches him in horror. They stand like that, in silence, for over a minute until Harry turns back to the task at hand and rubs at the red stains on his left arm. He peers up at his reflection and dimly realises that the splattered blood on his face and paler-than-usual pallor is probably the reason why Malfoy is still standing at the doorway, staring.

"What happened to you?" Malfoy chokes out.

Harry shrugs, not wanting to lie. "Was out. Got in a fight."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Malfoy lean against the doorframe. "That's not your blood."

Harry doesn't answer. He feels Lucifer begin to pry the barrier down. He picks the dried blood from under his nails.

"Who was the fight with?"

Once again, Harry doesn't answer. Lucifer drags the barrier down all the way. Harry takes this as his queue to diffuse the situation.

"Go back to bed, Malfoy. Everything's fine."

Harry slips past the boy and back into the bedroom, going straight to his bed and sliding the curtains shut behind him.

Lucifer doesn't bother him.

* * *

The next day, Harry doesn't eat.

There's still blood under his nails.

* * *

Gabriel is avoiding him, Lucifer notices. Every time the Defence classroom empties and Lucifer and Harry are the last ones there, his brother simply flies away without so much as looking at him.

Lucifer isn't sure why.

* * *

A week. It's been a week since Harry spoke to him. The mental block hasn't been raised since he pulled it down, but Harry hasn't made any kind of conversation with him, nor has he responded to anything Lucifer has said.

He doubts it's just Harry's anger that keeps him silent.

Lucifer could just read Harry's thoughts and find out what is bothering the boy so much, but it doesn't seem quite right. Lucifer can wait. He's nothing if not patient.

* * *

Harry has taken to meeting Ron and Hermione in the Library after lessons.

Ron wasn't thrilled about it, but the boy certainly doesn't mind that he doesn't have Snape breathing down his neck to finish scrolls anymore, now that Hermione and Harry have caught him up.

Hermione is overjoyed at the arrangement.

Harry is happy he has friends other than the Devil in his head.

* * *

"Hermione, can you do me a favour?" Harry asks, trying to figure it how exactly he's going to do this without the archangel who sees, hears and feels everything he does, knowing.

"Of course," the Gryffindor says, looking up from her book.

Harry makes sure the barrier is secure and that Lucifer isn't trying to pry it down. He pulls parchment and his ink and quill from his bag.

He closes his eyes, inks the tip, then writes:

 _Don't ask why, or why I'm writing it like this, just trust me and try to do it if you can._

 _I'll give you my invisibility cloak, but I need you to go into the Restricted Section anything you can on souls and soul magic._

 _Please make copies of whatever you find, and hand them to me without saying anything once you have them._

 _I need you to do this, please._

He slides the parchment over to Hermione, knowing that his already poor handwriting will be barely legible, but trusting his friend to understand. Wordlessly, he pulls out his cloak and hands it to her, looking her straight in the eye and avoiding the note. She looks concerned, but takes the cloak and gives a tiny little nod of her head.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

Now he just has to try and keep the barrier up for as long as possible.

* * *

Lucifer watches in amusement as Harry tries to be secretive. _Really?_ They share a _body_ , for Dad's sakes! Even if he couldn't tell what Harry was writing just by the movements if his hand — which, by the way, is _easy_ — he could just cast his awareness outwards and read the note, or steal the message from the little girl's mind, or just tear down the barrier (he only lets Harry keep it up for the boy's own peace of mind) and find out from Harry himself.

Well. This has the potential to become a relatively interesting week.

He humours Harry and lets him think he knows nothing about Hermione going off to research soul magic.

* * *

A week after the note exchange in the library, Harry is in Potions sitting beside Hermione. He sees her lean over, as though reaching into her bag, but when she comes back up she nudges him and nods downwards. His eyes flicker down, and sees a corner of his cloak hanging out of his own bag. Tucking it in, he smiles gratefully at Hermione.

The rest of the school day passes without a hitch.

* * *

Harry heads straight to the dungeons after lessons, eager to look through the information Hermione has collected. He knows Lucifer will be able to see it too, but he has hopes that the archangel won't be all that interested if he makes it look like he's doing homework.

It's at that second, at that precise thought, that Lucifer promptly rips the barrier down and takes control, redirecting Harry's path until he's in one of the boys toilets.

 _"Let me go."_

Lucifer strolls over to a mirror. Harry can see his own eyes, full of a cold amusement that isn't his, staring right back at him. Lucifer — because there's no doubting that the person in the mirror isn't him — smirks back at him.

 _"What's the matter, Harry? Am I delaying you from doing some all important soul-searching?"_

Dread seizes him, and Lucifer laughs — an awful, cruel cackle that sounds _wrong_ coming from Harry's mouth.

 _"Harry, did you really think I wouldn't find out?"_

 _"I hoped I'd get a chance to find out myself what the books say, since you won't give me an answer."_

Lucifer sighs, nodding. _"You want answers? Alright. I'm just going to say it: a piece of Voldemort's soul is latched onto yours and your magical core. I could rip it out like I did with Quirrel-"_ Harry tries to swallow his fear, but feels like he'd throw up if he was in control of his body. _"-but it would hurt — a lot — and it would probably damage your actual soul and quite possibly take away your ability to perform magic for a while, if not forever. Plus,"_ and Lucifer's eyes practically gleam, _"I'm curious to see what will happen."_

For the first time in years, Harry thinks he could actually cry.

* * *

Harry doesn't read through the information Hermione collected. The next day, he feigns being sick and stays out of lessons. Snape, sounding incredibly disapproving as only Snape can, glared but accepted his lie and advised he visit the hospital wing if his 'condition worsened'.

What Harry really did was lie in bed, staring at the top of the canopy.

 _"Cheer up, Harry."_

He raises the barrier. He doesn't want to hear anything Lucifer has to say right now.

* * *

Lucifer watches Harry's soul. The light, usually brighter than most humans' souls, is considerably dimmer than normal. Meaning the boy is sad. No, given how much the light has dimmed, Lucifer would say it goes deeper than simple sadness. Depression, maybe. Anger, definitely. Perhaps even hopelessness.

He told Harry the truth because the boy needed to hear it. Lucifer will get around to removing the piece of Voldemort's soul, but... True, he _is_ curious about what will happen, but he also didn't exaggerate when he said it would be incredibly painful. And... Lucifer doesn't want to do that to Harry.

He's grown attached, and he knows it. It's dangerous for an archangel to grow attached. Just look at how he and his siblings' relationships ended up! And the relationship between he and his Father — well, _that's_ a mess he isn't even going to think about.

Humans are fragile. Pathetically so. He knows it's in Harry's nature to be so... so... like _this_ , but Lucifer can't help how he was made either, and he isn't sure the boy knows that.

Harry doesn't trust him, and Lucifer doesn't expect him to. But archangels don't ever, ever do this kind of thing with their vessels. Why? Because they're expendable. The presence of the soul isn't necessary to the vessel's function, and so they are often burnt out the second the angel enters. Doing this, forming a _friendship_ — it's unheard of.

So, no, he doesn't want to hurt Harry. Which is why, looking at the dimmed glow of the boy's soul, Lucifer finds himself conflicted. He could tell Harry why he doesn't want to remove the soul, about his reluctance to hurt the human, but... would Harry even believe him?

Sometimes, he thinks, it's just better to be the bad guy.

* * *

Harry knows Hermione and Ron are concerned. His smiles feel forced even at the best of times, and he knows he's quieter than usual, too.

So maybe his surprise is misplaced when he suddenly finds himself cornered by the two Gryffindors.

Ron shifts uncomfortably while Hermione crosses her arms sternly, telling Harry just whose idea this had been.

"Harry, what's wrong with you lately?" Hermione demands.

He raises his eyebrows. "Nothing, why?"

 _"Liar,"_ Lucifer sighs, sounding disappointed.

Harry brings the barrier up almost on reflex.

 _"Something_ is wrong, Harry. You've barely said two words to us all day, you never eat anything at meals anymore, you practically run back to the dungeons whenever you get the chance — we're worried."

Ron shifts on his feet, seemingly gaining confidence. "You're even worrying some of the teachers, mate."

That's news to him. "What? Who?"

Hermione frowns disapprovingly. "Maybe you'd notice these things if you weren't always too busy staring at nothing."

"I'm fine, guys," he insists.

"Harry, why did you want information on soul magic?"

He glances at Ron, but the equally perturbed expression on his face tells Harry that Ron already knows.

"Just some research. I was interested."

"Some of the books on that kind of thing — they were dangerous, Harry. This is incredibly close to being the Dark Arts."

Harry's jaw drops. "No! I'm not interested in the Dark Arts at all! That isn't what it was for!"

"Then _what,_ Harry? Because the way things look, you might be going that way without even knowing it."

Harry stares at them, conflicted. In a spur of the moment decision, Harry tugs the barrier down.

" _They need to know."_

 _"They don't. And when did you decide to suddenly talk to me again?"_

 _"Not_ now, _Lucifer. They're my friends!"_

 _"And? They won't be once you tell them you have Satan in your head. You'll be sent to the nearest psych ward."_

 _"If that's the case, I'll know they're not my friends, won't I?"_ he reasons, though the idea of Ron and Hermione turning against him… Harry doesn't want to think about it.

 _"Your funeral."_

 _"How do I prove it?"_

 _"You mean without making it seem like you have a split personality? Take them up to the seventh floor room. The one that changes."_

Harry steels himself with a breath, then gestures for the Gryffindors to follow him, praying they'll still be his friends after this.

* * *

This is a bad idea. Lucifer knows it, but he also knows that Harry's childlike need to cling to friendship will ensure the humans get told anyway. This is still a very bad idea. One that will most likely end with him having to modify the memories of every human in the room, Harry included.

"Harry, what _is_ this place?" the boy breathes in fascination, staring around at the odd room.

It _is_ a curious place, he'll admit. He didn't think wizards were capable of magic in this scale.

"The Room of Requirement," the girl says, sounding delighted. "It's said to change depending on the users' needs."

"Oh. That explains why it's been different every time I've been in here," Harry says absent-mindedly, only half interested in the current conversation.

"Why did you bring us here, of all places?" the witch asks, confused.

Lucifer takes in his surroundings, impressed by what he finds. The room is vast enough to allow him to stretch all six wings out fully — which is no small feat. The walls are layered in ward after ward to the point where it could possibly withstand the might of his Grace for maybe a minute. No furniture, just a bare chamber that is ready for what Lucifer has in mind.

 _"Harry, you explain. But you know—"_

 _"I know you'll have to take over if they don't believe me."_ The boy sounds resigned, and Lucifer can feel the dread emanating from Harry's soul.

But the acceptance, the acknowledgement that Lucifer will take over whether Harry gives his permission or not — Lucifer is pleased. Obviously, Lucifer doesn't exactly make a _habit_ of forcing control over Harry, nor does Harry often deny him free reign within reason, but this is different. It shows that the boy is learning; learning how to cope with living with an archangel.

So Harry explains. Lucifer watches through his vessel's eyes as the two humans go from concerned, to incredulous, to slightly scared.

"...I'm basically living with the Devil. He's annoying as hell and a complete arse, but—" Harry stops with a sigh, scratching the back of his head. "You don't believe me. You think I'm crazy and now you're scared."

The two humans don't answer, and Lucifer thinks it's because they might be too frightened to.

 _"My turn, Harry."_

Harry swallows, but he doesn't attempt to put up the barrier (as if it would stop him). Lucifer pushes forward, rolling his neck as he takes control.

"I'm Lucifer, archangel, Satan, whatever. I'm just proving that Harry isn't insane, then you can have him back," he says.

He sees the redhead not-so-subtly grasp the girl's arm and slowly edge towards the door.

Lucifer locks it with a flick of his wrist, the click echoing in the room. The children freeze, terrified. Lucifer grins.

"Impolite," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Close your eyes."

They remain staring at him fearfully.

 _"Close your eyes,"_ he says more forcefully, adding a smidgen of power to the words.

The humans flinch back, but squeeze their eyes shut nevertheless.

Lucifer rolls his shoulders, then pulls his wings through the dimensions.

Lesser, younger angels have trouble doing this. They don't yet have enough control over their Grace to do it without burning up everything in the immediate vicinity. But Lucifer is old — eldest save for one — and can do this without batting an eye. He pulls his wings through into the material world, the only sign if his power being the brief surge of Grace that he quickly restrains.

In a second, six wings fill the room, curling around to keep them from touching the walls. Lucifer grits his teeth as one of the tender, charred ends brushes the floor.

"You can look."

They do. The girl lets out a small squeak, and the boy simply stands with his mouth hanging open.

 _"I think they believe us, Harry."_

 _"I'd be more concerned if they didn't, after that."_

"Y—You're really...?" the girl gasps out, still staring at his wings.

"Yeah. I'm going to put these away, so close your eyes again."

After a moments hesitation, they both do. Lucifer is quick to pull them back, curling them close to him as he rides out the pain.

 _"Lucifer?"_

"What?" he grits out loud, not able to concentrate enough to speak mentally as he slowly gets past the pain in his wings.

 _"Have a rest."_

He would glare and scoff we're it anyone else, but Harry can feel his exhaustion.

 _"Right. Have fun dealing with them."_

Lucifer draws back into Harry's mind, sitting back to watch Harry attempt to console his quite frankly terrified friends while he tries to let the cold of his Grace soothe his aching wings.

* * *

 _"I need to talk to Gabriel,"_ Lucifer says, having finally had enough of his brother's childish behaviour.

 _"I don't think_ he _wants to talk to_ you," Harry says.

 _"He doesn't have a choice anymore."_

With no small amount of reluctance, Harry recedes. Lucifer raises the barrier, not wanting to hear whatever Harry will think about the following conversation.

Lucifer waits until the end of the lesson, and before Gabriel can fly away again, he says, "What's the hurry?"

Gabriel stops, but doesn't turn to him. "I've got things to do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Assholes to trick. Just desserts to serve."

"Trickster stuff, then. _Pagan_ stuff," Lucifer says, curling his lip in distaste.

"Yeah. Pagan stuff. Get over it."

"Honestly, Gabriel, I thought you were done with that—"

"What, like I made the mistake of thinking you'd changed, even a little?" Gabriel challenges, rounding on him.

Lucifer glares. "If this is about Quirrel—"

"Of _course_ it's about Quirrel! The first moment you could — the very _instant_ you had an excuse — you killed him. Yeah, you can call me a hypocrite, but you know what? Quirrel himself didn't _deserve_ to have your _arm_ rammed through his chest — and he certainly didn't deserve not being put out of his misery as soon as you ripped that piece of soul out of him!"

Lucifer is silent for a while. Then he says, "It was Voldemort."

Gabriel looks enraged, but then confused. "What? Riddle?"

"You _know_ him?"

"I've been gone for a while, Lucifer," Gabriel says blandly. "I know who Tom Riddle is, and who he became."

"The soul was his. There's another piece of it on Harry's soul," he says. He definitely doesn't want to know what Harry is thinking at the moment. The boy might have come to terms with his… _condition,_ but he certainly won't be happy about Lucifer telling Gabriel so easily.

Gabriel looks disturbed, as though their previous line of conversation never happened. _"On_ his soul?"

Lucifer grimaces, taking a quick look at the disgusting, black piece of soul nestled between Harry's soul and his magical core. "Yeah. On it."

His brother frowns. "How is that _possible?"_

Lucifer shakes his head. "I have no idea."

"You must have _some_ idea—"

Lucifer glares. "I've cut, sliced, diced, stretched, mangled and maimed a human soul, Gabriel, but I never — _never —_ broke one. It shouldn't be possible."

Gabriel folds his arms. "Then what are we dealing with?"

Lucifer doesn't answer, because he can't.

* * *

Harry lies in bed, silent. The curtains around him are drawn shut, so it's just him and the Devil. He doesn't want to sleep. If he sleeps, he'll see Lucifer, wearing Sam, in the meadow and that isn't a place Harry wants to be right now.

 _"Sleeping might help you cope,"_ Lucifer suggests.

 _"I'll be fine,"_ Harry replies.

 _"You're angry I told Gabriel."_

 _"I'm not angry."_

 _"Liar,"_ Lucifer sighs, sounding incredibly disappointed which _is not fair at all._

 _"It's not anger, Lucifer,"_ Harry insists, sighing quietly and rolling onto his side.

 _"Then what? Help me out here, Harry, because it feels a lot like anger."_

 _"I'm just… I… Look, how do you_ think _it feels, finding out you have a piece of the soul of the man who murdered your parents attached to your own soul and there's nothing that can be done to get it out? It isn't a great feeling, Lucifer,"_ Harry says shortly.

 _"So then it's… hurt. You're hurt. But you're angry that your hurt?"_

 _"Sort of. I'm angry that this happened to me, which is stupid because there was probably nothing that could have been done about it in the first place. But I can't help think that this — all of this — comes from him killing my parents that night. It's… I don't even know, Lucifer. I'm just frustrated that everything — the Dursleys, my parents' deaths, this thing on my soul — all stems down to Voldemort, who wasn't even as dead as everyone thought he was."_

Harry is surprised when he feels annoyance and something akin to guilt radiating from Lucifer.

 _"I let him go. I let the bastard get away."_

 _"It was the shock. You didn't mean to,"_ Harry sighs, rolling onto his back again and staring at the canopy above him.

 _"I'm an archangel. Hell,_ Gabriel _was there too. Riddle shouldn't have escaped."_

 _"Will it happen again, do you think? Him possessing someone like Quirrel?"_ Harry asks, thinking for the fist time about his former Defence professor. He hasn't let himself dwell on the wizard for too long in the past weeks.

 _"No. The soul was too weak for that."_

 _"Right. Okay,"_ he says, not really sure where to go now.

 _"Next time I'll burn him out of existence,"_ Lucifer promises.

Harry isn't particularly comforted. _"I don't particularly want there to be a next time."_

 _"We may not have a say in that, Harry."_

* * *

 _"So, why'd you think you've been called to the Headmaster's office?"_

 _"How should I know? The only thing we've done wrong is that whole Quirrel thing and there's no way he could know about that, right?"_

 _"It's almost the end of the year. It does seem unlikely that he'd approach you about it now."_

 _"Right, yeah. But, seriously, what else could it be?"_

 _"I don't know. You'll have to ask."_

He raises his eyebrows slightly as Professor Snape says the password _lemon drop,_ but collects himself quickly when Snape all but shoves him onto the rotating staircase. Once at the top, he knocks onto Professor Dumbledore's door and waits.

"Come in," the aged voice calls.

Harry swallows nervously and pushes the large oak door inwards, shutting it behind him.

Dumbledore is behind his desk, and he brightens when he sees him. "Ah, Harry! Good, Professor Snape brought you."

Harry nods, wordlessly coming to sit across the desk from the Headmaster.

"Well, I called you here because I'd like to discuss a matter of great confusion to me," Dumbledore begins.

Harry doesn't move, waiting for the shoe to drop.

"At the very beginning of the year, you'll recall I warned everyone away from the third floor, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry says, while to Lucifer he says, _"He knows."_

 _"You think?"_

"This was because there was an item of great power and importance being stored there, under many wards and spells of protection. However, given that the year is coming to an end I decided to investigate the wards."

 _"This is bad, Lucifer."_

 _"Potentially."_

"The wards I had put in place identify magical cores, you see. I discovered four very troubling, very confusing things. The wards — that should have alerted me the very second someone unauthorised entered the chambers and failed to do so — had identified Professor Quirrel's core, your core, a weakened core of Lord Voldemort, and a very old, very powerful trace of energy, the likes of which I have never seen before."

 _"This is really bad."_

 _"Oh yeah."_

"However, the wards also told me that only two beings walked through the magical fire. Only, the potions that would allow one to safely pass through it showed that only enough for one person had been consumed."

 _"Oops."_

 _"I blame you for that, Lucifer."_

 _"Just because I wouldn't die from a little magic fire?!"_

 _"Yes!"_

"All of this implies something very disturbing to me, however there is very little evidence to prove it. My theory is that Professor Quirrel was possessed by Lord Voldemort's spirit, and that you, Harry, were possessed by something much older and stronger. I am giving you the chance now to tell me the truth. What, other than yourself, occupies your body, Harry?"

 _"Don't tell him."_

 _"Why?!"_

 _"Because you've got fucking Satan in your head and I don't think that's likely to go down well, do you?"_

 _"He already knows!"_

 _"Not who I am!"_

 _"Lucifer, come on!"_

 _"You've already told your two humans; no one else needs to know!"_

Harry reluctantly holds his tongue, but he knows it won't do any good. Dumbledore already knows enough.

Dumbledore holds out a bowl of sweets and says, "Sherbet lemon?"

"Um, thanks," Harry says numbly, taking one and popping it in his mouth. If not for Lucifer's willpower, his face would have twisted and he would have shuddered.

 _"That was disgusting and don't you ever, ever try one again."_

Harry agrees wholeheartedly.

"I have read about angels."

Harry's heart sinks.

"Ancient beings of great power serving under God."

 _"Not a word,"_ Harry tells Lucifer when he feels the archangel's irritation rising.

"However, not _all_ of them do, do they, Harry?" Dumbledore goes on, looking at him from under his raised, bushy eyebrows.

Harry frowns slightly. _"How does he know all this?"_

 _"Wizard,"_ Lucifer sighs.

"I've heard you telling Professor Loki about the angels. More specifically, the names of the archangels."

 _"Gabriel is dead when I next see him."_

 _"I'll help."_

"Samael is a name that only appears in the oldest of scriptures, Harry," Dumbledore says, watching him solemnly.

 _"Harry, you need to let me handle this."_

 _"No."_

 _"Harry—"_

 _"Let me take care of it for once, okay? You've already been in control far too much for my liking."_

To his surprise, Lucifer actually backs off.

Harry meets Dumbledore's piercing gaze with determination. "Professor, I know who I let in my head. He's my _friend,_ and in the six years I've known him he hasn't done anything to hurt me." Not on purpose, anyway.

Dumbledore frowns slightly. "You're sure you can trust him? Harry, if this angel is who I think—"

"Then there's nothing you can do. I'm sorry, Professor, but this comes from authority much higher up than you, and you'll only be putting your life at risk if you try to do anything about it."

Dumbledore sits back in his chair, suddenly looking less like a powerful wizard and more like a tired old man. "Very well then, Harry. I trust your judgement."

Harry nods.

 _"I'm impressed."_

 _"Don't be. Having the ultimate wordsmith in my head wouldn't be much good if I hadn't learnt a thing or two, would it?"_

 _"Harry, I'm flattered to pay so much attention to me."_

 _"Again, don't be. You're just too irritating to ignore."_

 _"You're making me blush."_

Harry leaves the office with a sense of accomplishment and a ridiculous smile on his face, because the archangel in his head may as well be a human teenager for the amount of sense he has.

 _"Rude,"_ Lucifer grumbles.

 _"I know, I'm awful."_

* * *

Packing his trunk, Harry finds himself alone in the room with Malfoy. Lovely.

"I don't understand you, Potter."

Oh, they're making conversation? Okay. "That's a shame. I understand you just fine."

"What do you mean by that?" Malfoy asks indignantly.

"You've been raised to be a clone copy of your muggle-hating, blood-purity obsessed father and you don't know anything else because you were homeschooled until you came to Hogwarts," he says, not looking at the boy while he continues to place items in his trunk.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my father that way!"

"Why?" Harry asks, turning to face him with raised eyebrows. He shrugs. "Tell me I'm lying if you're so sure."

Malfoy gapes at him but remains silent.

"See? Even now you know I'm right."

"And what about you?" Malfoy demands, scowling at him. "You don't talk to anyone in your own House; you hang around with Gryffindors; you're clearly intelligent enough to be in Ravenclaw and quite frankly I think you're _wasted_ in Slytherin, if only because you don't have a lick of ambition about you; you have a complete disregard for anything to do with inter-house etiquette — you're infuriating!"

Harry blinks, because that was strangely complimentary. Then he collects himself and smirks, shrugging and closing his trunk. "What can I say, Draco? I guess I'm just a mystery."

With that, and with Lucifer cackling at the back of his mind, Harry drags his trunk down to be collected.

* * *

Harry looks down at the photo album in his hands, touched beyond words. He waves to Hagrid as the train departs, then goes to sit with Ron and Hermione in a compartment. Tucking the album safely in his bag, he settles for the journey.

Silence fills the compartment.

Ron and Hermione have been avoiding him ever since Lucifer revealed himself to them. Harry can't blame them — really, it's well within their rights to be uncomfortable with the situation — but he can't help but feel… well, sad. They're his only friends.

 _"I resent that."_

 _"You're in my head twenty-four-seven. You don't count."_

 _"I don't even know why I bother, sometimes."_

 _"Neither do I, to be honest."_

Harry ignored Lucifer's indignation in favour of turning to Ron and Hermione. He says, "Are you scared of me now?"

They look at each other, clearly uncomfortable.

"It's— It's not that, Harry," Hermione begins, looking away. "It's just— I—" She stops, shaking her head.

Ron scratches the back of his neck. "It's not every day you find out your mate is possessed by— by—"

"Satan?" Harry states bluntly. He sighs at the amusement mixed with exasperation radiating from Lucifer.

"Yeah," Ron says weakly.

"We're still your friends," Hermione says quickly, her eyes wide. "It's just that— Well, we—"

"We don't really know how to…" Ron trails off, shrugging.

"How to talk to you now that we know you're not…"

 _"Just_ you."

Harry looks between them, frowning slightly. "I'm still me, you know."

"We know," Hermione insists earnestly. "But with— with—"

"Lucifer," Harry adds.

Hermione nods uneasily. "You're _two._ And the _other_ is— Well, he's someone we've been raised to believe is— is—"

"Evil," Harry sighs, getting where they're coming from.

They both nod.

Harry leans forward. "Look, Lucifer's been with me since I was five. Meaning, he was there when we all met at the beginning of the year and when we became friends. He won't hurt you. Really."

They still look skeptical.

"It's just a lot to get used to, you know?" Ron says, shifting in his seat.

Harry huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. I know, trust me."

His friends laugh weakly, and Harry brightens slightly.

"I get it if you don't want to write—"

"What?!" Hermione exclaims. "Of _course_ we'll write!"

Harry blinks. "Oh. Um, great. I just thought you'd maybe want the summer to get used to the idea—"

"Don't be daft," Ron scoffs. "We're not just gonna cut you out, mate."

 _"How loyal,"_ Lucifer drawls.

But Harry ignores the sardonic tone and grins, his heart lighter than it's been in weeks.

So maybe Ron and Hermione haven't accepted that Lucifer isn't the personification of all evil. They're still giving _him_ a chance.

It's not much, but it's a start.

* * *

 **A/N: So, that's that for First Year. Next we'll have an interlude, and then it's onto Harry's second year. You'll have to bear with me I'm afraid; with the subjects I've chosen for my A Levels I don't have a lot of time to write, so things will definitely be going slower from here on. I'll do my best to keep you all interested,** **haha. Thank you again for all your lovely reviews** **— it really means a lot to me. Hope you enjoyed this, and I'll see you all later!**


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